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alheria · 1 year

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Fresh wind on a hot day (4/9)

*goot injyred in hisoital possibky be hinr later dint worrj*

Every bone, every muscle, every last drop of blood in Street's body froze when he read the chaotic message from Buck, who then went completely silent, didn't respond to any following texts or calls.

They've been dating for a little over two months now but Jim was yet to witness his partner suffer an unavoidable in his field of work serious injury. He's seen a vast variety of bruises, cuts and abrasions on the unfortunate firefighter, however nothing so serious it required hospitalization. Which meant this new, uncertain situation scared the cop terribly. As if he wasn't already a little anxious every time he watched his Alpha leave for a shift, worried it might be the last time they see each-other.

That was kind of hypocritical, considering the SWAT officer wasn't at all concerned about himself getting hurt on the job. Last week, a bullet flew inches away from his head and he didn't even flinch. It really showed how much he cared about Buck, even though their relationship has barely began.

And it was just perfect.

Obviously, it started a little chaotic, with Chris firmly stating she won't allow it unless she properly meets Buck first and gives them her "blessing". Which resulted in only slightly awkward double date and learning both Alphas actually know each-other, crossed paths in the hospital Amelia works at when the firefighter's leg got severely injured. Small world, huh? Jim was terribly nervous the whole time, his best friend's opinion mattered to him a lot, but he also really liked his guy and wanted to keep him. Fortunately, the other cop was moderately satisfied with the extensive interrogation, and let them be. She said: "He's a little weird, cos who the hell constantly smiles, but a good person overall, approved.".

From there, everything seemed to work great. Maybe things happened a little too fast for regular standards, but nothing was rushed, purely organic. As Street started staying at Buck's more often, it became clear how different they are, in a complimentary way however. While the Alpha turned out to be great at cooking and ensuring his boyfriend does not live off snacks only, the Omega made sure the firefighter always has clean clothes to wear, eliminating wondering if a shirt he found on the floor smells okay enough to be worn for a third time in a row. Which was surprisingly mature considering how little brain cells were between those two unbelievably reckless men. Their personalities fit well too, Buck brought a lot of light and stability into the cop's insecure gloom, who in return gave him what he's always wanted - a feeling he truly belongs somewhere. And what's probably most important, the crazy work hours didn't bother either because they both were completely obsessed with their beloved, demanding professions.

Even if those dream jobs could easily have them killed.

Going to the hospital, which address he got from the dispatch, Jim made himself physically sick by constantly thinking about worst case scenarios, even though it was obvious whatever damage the Alpha suffered wasn't that serious, he managed to send the odd text after all.

-Hi, sorry, I am looking for my boyfriend, Evan Buckley. -Street nervously informed the standing behind the desk nurse, a little short of breath from rushing over there.

-Evan Buckley? -she frowned visibly confused but after a few seconds of deep thinking her face brightened up once the realization hit. -Oh! You mean our regular guest Buck? He's in the third room on the left, right there around that corner. -pointed in the correct direction. The impatient cop mumbled his gratitude and quickly disappeared to see his partner. He opened the mentioned door and briefly froze upon seeing the extent of fortunately light injuries.

-Oh Lord, Buck, what happened?! -Jim demanded when the initial shock faded, hastily approaching the half-sitting on the bed shirtless firefighter. The left side of his neck and face was heavily covered in scratches and wounds full of glass pieces a very young doctor was carefully removing, while the other, somehow even younger, bandaged the right hand, a long cut peeking from under the unfinished dressing. He looked oddly pale, his usually gleaming gaze was now clearly dull, somewhat sad even. This joyless expression did brighten up significantly when he heard his boyfriend's concerned voice.

-Small explosion, fell on some glass. -the Alpha explained vaguely, trying very hard not to move and disrupt the treatment. Which was quite a challenge because he needed to touch his partner. -It's not as bad as it looks. You didn't have to come all the way down here. You're still on duty, aren't you? -asked, hoping to distract himself from the itching.

-On-call. -Street nodded before remembering something that caught his attention a moment earlier. -The nurse called you a regular. Exactly how often do you end up in a hospital? -he wondered, instantly moving closer the second the doc was finished with the injured palm. His own instinctively gravitated towards the firefighter's muscular arm, grabbed it firmly and began to gently rub the warm skin.

-From time to time. -Buck grinned after deciding honesty on this subject won't do his already worried boyfriend any good. -Those poor med students have to practice on someone. -he joked, making the two women smile and earning himself a one very frightening death stare.

-You scared the shit out of me with that weird ass message. -the Omega whispered softly, looking down at the neatly bandaged hand. This could've ended way worse.

-Sorry babe, I suck at texting one-handed and my phone was dying, so this gibberish had to do. -the firefighter apologized, his heart feeling a little heavy upon sensing the officer's rapidly increasing distress. -I'm fine, really. Nothing a few stitches cannot fix. -assured, tenderly grabbing Jim's palm with his undamaged one. It was fascinating to watch how the anxious man immediately began to relax. Like if his touch was somehow magical. -You know...you look pretty sweet in your uniform. Can you like...bring it to my place some time? -he hummed, causing the involuntarily listening students to blush at that shameless suggestion.

-If you're well enough to joke around, maybe I should leave? -Jim rolled his eyes, utterly amused by the ease his boyfriend turned a serious situation into a joke with. And he was very thankful for that.

-Don't you dare! -the Alpha gasped dramatically, his blue eyes finally back to regular gleeful sparkling. Which made Street oh, so happy. -I need my emotional support boyfriend!

-Your who?! -exclaimed instantly a surprised, familiar voice belonging to a person whose arrival they failed to notice, too engaged in the silly bickering. The couple, still holding hands, instantly looked at the visitor. Buck's smile dropped like a rock, and he went eerily silent while the other man wondered where does he recognize this woman from. -I know you. -Hen informed, gazing at the police officer wide-eyed, clearly shocked by the unexpected discovery. -You're that cop who was dangling off the ceiling.

Nice, what a great achievement to be remembered for.

-Street. -reminded the slightly embarrassed officer.

-What? -the paramedic blinked furiously, struggling to comprehend this truly confusing situation. Apparently, not a single one of Buck's friends as much as suspected he might be dating someone in secret. He must've been hiding it really well.

-Jim Street, my name. -he repeated himself, not breaking the weirdly intense eye contact. Poor Alpha seemed so lost in thoughts, Jim started to worry if the overwhelmed mind is not starting to overheat, as her response took a good while to form.

-Right. Um...I guess you don't need a ride then, Buck? -she asked, glancing at her teammate who was equally paralyzed with shock. Street had to nudge him with an elbow to force out a reaction.

-Thanks Hen, I'm good. -the firefighter smiled weakly, his hold on the Omega's hand tightened.

-Ooookay. Um, I'll see you whenever you are back, and don't even think there won't be a conversation. Because I need to know every detail. -Hen then informed before swiftly turning around and leaving the room. The door didn't even fully close, she was already texting someone, most likely to share her findings.

-Busted. -Buck chuckled nervously when Street looked at him. It was truly heartbreaking to watch his always cheerful partner so unnecessarily anxious, and he couldn't even pull him into a comforting embrace to take some of that unease away.

At the beginning of their relationship, the Alpha made it very clear he won't talk to his crew just yet, and Jim didn't really care to be honest. The firefighter wasn't of course ashamed, he was wary. After witnessing their friend get hurt over and over again because he had a bad tendency to dive head in into any romantic encounter, they became a little judgemental towards his choices and often tried to interfere. And knowing that, he was afraid they might make him doubt in this fragile one before he gives it a proper try.

-Only you, babe. -the officer reminded, reassuringly patting his boyfriend's shoulder. He obviously told Chris and Luca straight away, they were his best friends. The rest of the team found out almost immediately after he returned to work post-injury, thanks to the irritating flaw in design. It's very hard for an Omega to get rid of an Alpha's scent they were in prolonged contact with, especially once it enters the bloodstream and unfortunately, they were both into biting. The first time it was easy to explain, but when the unfamiliar smell stayed present for unnaturally long, it became evident he's been seeing someone. So he obviously had to confess to avoid being secretly investigated by this overprotective bunch. -Will you finally tell them? -he wondered, fighting very hard not to pet Buck's hair, knowing well-enough it would make him lean into it, therefore disrupt the focused doctor's work.

-Do I have a choice? -he sighed, painfully aware at least three more people from his social circle were informed by now, if not everyone. This was surely the type of gossip you do not keep to yourself for a long time.

-You could always make up a lie, but you suck at lying so no, you have no choice. -Street hummed, glad his comment brought back the beautiful smile. His partner might've been skilled at hiding things, although once confronted, he was done for. That's how, among other things, Jim learned Buck would sometimes wear his Omega's freshly washed hoodies before putting them in the closet to leave the "I'm taken" scent on them. Which was both adorable and creepy.

-Ouch! I am already hurting, that painful remark was unnecessary. -the Alpha groaned, theatrically pressing a hand to the offended heart. -You are terrible at being an emotional support boyfriend. -he huffed, causing the older man to laugh sincerely.

-Well, I didn't expect myself to be any good at it either.

---

Once finally home, Buck's place that is, the pair found themselves on the couch, silently dozing off in a tight embrace after a long, emotionally exhausting day. The aching firefighter was resting on his Omega's chest, listening to the steady heartbeat, while his back got gently caressed under the warm hoodie. It was immensely relaxing, basking in mixed, comforting scents as their safe and mostly sound bodies closely touched.

Neither of them was ready to admit it, although both recently noticed the unfamiliar craving for that affectionate skin-to-skin contact. This insufferable hunger kept increasing the longer they were separated, and required merely a pat on the shoulder to start subsiding. One time, due to unfortunate work scheduling they had no control over, the couple haven't met at all for a whole week. It was nearly excruciating, to the point Jim's at first delicate irritation began to get tainted with raw fury, which flared up any time some external factor made him angry. What in his job happened a lot, on a daily basis, really. Somehow he managed not to kill anyone on purpose, however came close a couple of times before seeing his boyfriend and instantly forgetting how terribly neglected he felt past seven days.

Which made him wonder how would he survive if Buck had died today. He couldn't fathom not holding this strong, fearless, vulnerable man ever again, not brushing through the silky, blond strands, not watching the peaceful expression on the awfully scratched face. It was such an unbelievable privilege, finding a perfect for him Alpha who enjoyed being taken care of and spoiled, even though nature shaped him to be emotionally reserved and demanding, not overly affectionate and needy as he turned out to be. Where the hell would he find another person like that? Nowhere, most likely. -Jim. I'm really sorry. -the firefighter whispered unexpectedly, breaking the depressing train of thought. His tone sounded somehow dejected, and it put the Omega on high-alert.

-For? -Street frowned, not sure what is the younger man referring to, but starting to sense growing distress. He moved his hand from the hair to the highly sensitive neck, hoping it will calm his Alpha down.

-Scaring you. -Buck clarified, instinctively leaning into the pleasant touch. -I shouldn't have sent that message, but at the same time I...desperately wanted you to come. -he confessed quietly, shyly even, and the cop's heart just dropped all the way to the planet's core once the horrifying realisation hit.

This whole time, how could've he been so fucking clueless?!

Busy being worried, he didn't even think of that obvious possibility.

-You got scared too, didn't you?

Bingo.

The firefighter's body tensed at that softly voiced, spot-on question. A subtle reaction the vigilant, concerned boyfriend easily noticed, and responded to accordingly, by tightening the embrace.

-...yeah, a little. -Buck snorted, curling up further in Jim's protective arms. -When that explosion happened...for a few seconds everything went very bright and very quiet and I...I thought it's over. That I'm dead. When the team drove me to the hospital, I was still pretty shaken up and couldn't stop thinking how better I'd feel if you were there to hold my hand. I knew you were at work and didn't need to be bothered but...I just wanted to see you so bad...I'm really sorry.

Street's brain instantly crashed, overwhelmed by what he just heard. That was...heartbreaking. He had no clue in what kinds of relationships this man was previously, however they surely must've been toxic as hell. Otherwise, Buck would never even think informing his significant half he ended up in a hospital and needs them to come might be a bother. It was truly infuriating this amazing person had such a low self-esteem and evident trust issues he felt like he has to apologize for a natural reaction to a stressor. Those negative traits definitely required some work in the near future to once and for all change that unhealthy mindset.

-I'm glad you texted me then. -murmured the Omega after finally returning to reality. He then buried his nose in the fragrant strands to inhale that amazing scent and calm himself down because luckily, the magic worked both ways. -Partners should depend on each-other. I've got your back. -assured, gently tilting the firefighter's chin, so he can look into those gorgeous blue eyes, now slightly saddened. -And I won't ever judge you. If something is troubling you, I want to hear all about it. So I can help. -he added, leaning down to capture his partner's lips in a tender kiss.

-Thanks babe. -the Alpha smiled fondly once they parted, quickly reaching for one more kiss before saying: -Who would've thought cops can be so humane.

There he is. Classic Buck, turning a highly emotional situation into a joke.

-And who would've thought firefighters can be so insolent. -Street mocked, delighted to sense the anxiety fade. -Wait, do you even know what insolent means, or is this term too ancient for you? -he teased, remembering how last week he was the one made fun of because he had no idea what some new slang word meant.

-Wow, who's being insolent now, huh? -pouted the firefighter. -Apologize. -he demanded in a manner that absolutely did not feel like an order, but a hopeless request. And oh, if the Alpha wanted to, with current strength of their connection he could effortlessly make the officer profoundly apologize on his knees. But he would never do such a thing, and the bratty Omega just loved knowing that.

-You wish. -Jim chuckled, ruffling the golden hair before slamming Buck's brightened up face into his chest. -Ugh! I am so lucky to have you! -he exclaimed loudly, pressing a juicy kiss to the top of his boyfriend's head, who straight on melted upon hearing the honest confession.

-Seriously? -asked hesitantly the Alpha as he pulled himself up to tower over the older man. He was always the one showering the other person with adoration, it was hard to believe someone admired him this much for simply existing.

-Uh-huh. You are everything I could wish for, I don't even know how to properly put in words how perfect you are to me. -Street nodded, reaching for the firefighter's uninjured cheek to caress it gently while they stared at each-other in silence, their eyes glowing with reverence. -So fortunate.

-I...I don't know what to say. -Buck admitted, blushing furiously. He, perfect? That was an insane assumption, he was definitely not perfect, not even close. And yet, Jim apparently liked the whole picture. Why?! -No one has ever felt about me this way, I think. -he revealed, unsure of what to say. The Omega didn't seem to care, he pulled his boyfriend down by the nape and wrapped the long arms around him, once again holding his partner in a tight embrace.

-It's pretty new, and weird, to me too. Feeling this way, that is. -he whispered into the soft hair. -But some day, we will surely get used to it.

And learn how to accept it.

#m/m smut #ao3fic #m/m #9 1 1 fanfiction #SWAT fanfiction #Buck x Jim #omegaverse fanfiction #omegaverse

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getlostsquidward · 3 years

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The gaps in your hearts (Part 2)

Lou Miller x fem!reader

A/N: You asked for part 2, and I shall deliver. I hope it's worth your wait!!

Summary: After your departure, an unexpected circumstance had you arriving back at the loft, back at Lou. Will the gaps in your hearts only become wider or will they be finally filled?

Part one

“Oh, bugger. Baby? I’m home.”

“Nice place.”

“Try heating it.”

“There’s a room for you upstairs. Your stuff’s upstairs too.”

Lou called your name a couple of times but she got no answer. Maybe you went out and got something from the store. She furrowed her eyebrows at the notion that you didn’t let her know you’ll go out like you usually does.

She can’t wait for you to meet Debbie.

The sun has set down and you weren’t at home yet. Lou was growing worried each minute that passes. She’d left you text messages, she tried to call you several times, but all of it went to voicemail. Where did you go?

Debbie had returned from her closure meeting with Claude. She had bought takeout for dinner but Lou wasn’t in any mood to eat. She was antsy but keeping it down so her friend won’t notice. Maybe you were called in at work? Maybe you went out with a friend and forgot to send her a text. The blonde knows you can perfectly take care of yourself but she can’t help but be worried.

“Where’s your girl?” Debbie asked, reminded of Lou calling someone ‘baby’ when they arrived earlier.

Lou just shrugged her shoulders, not really knowing what to answer.

“Maybe she hit her head and woke up from the truth,” the brunette joked.

Lou glared at her friend. “Not funny.”

“Tell me about her.”

The blonde started to tell her friend everything. From how you met, the ups and downs of your relationship, and how loving and wonderful you are. You were patient and understanding; you were perfect in every way and she hated how she’d managed to hurt the one person that did nothing but love her.

The day you moved out of the loft was the most devastating day of her life. It was way much worse than when Debbie left before.

She knew that you were checking in on her through Matt, and she was wracked with guilt. Even after what she’d done, you still care for her. Lou unconsciously checks her phone to see if you left a message but to no avail. You really honoured your word that you’d give her time, and she was thankful for that.

In your two-month break, she really had thought about it all. She used the time to sort out her feelings. Hell, she even opened up to some of her other friends for help, something she rarely does even with those who know her. Unearthing her feelings.

Lou had feelings for Debbie. She didn’t know if it was romantic or if it was just a deep affection. She didn’t really think much of it. Debbie was one of the few of the persons she knows she could trust with her life and in the conworld, such a person was like a rare gem. It was hard to find, and if you do, you’ve got to treasure it. And so she did.

“Maybe you’d mistaken the concept of love and affection. You told me you really didn’t think anything about it and that explains it. The moment you felt that that person was dear to you, you immediately equated it to romantic love.”

The words mentioned had hit Lou, hard. Once she realized that, she promptly had to find you. She called you, but you didn’t answer. She didn’t know where you were staying so she asked your friends, and that’s how Lou found you drowning in liquor in some alley.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Debbie berated, feeling rather guilty about how she was probably the reason you left for the second time around.

“I do. No need to remind me.”

“I’m gonna tell you to go find her, but I also need you to focus on the job. Can you do both?”

“Of course,” Lou sighed. She won’t know what she would do if she were to lose you for real this time.

You were feeling rueful for leaving Lou without a word. You knew she’d be worried sick, but it was the best for the two of you. Once again, you fell into your routine. It was incredibly helpful that an event was coming and you can spend all of your time at work. Though this time, the constant drinking was out of your to-do list.

Your mind often wandered to Lou. She said something about a job, maybe that’s what they’re doing right now. Has she been thinking of you too?

The messages and missed calls Lou had sent you were not in your knowledge as you’d let your best friend hide your phone, and bought a new one for you. At first, you thought that it would be ridiculous and childlike of you but maybe she had a point. The worst-case scenario would be Lou filing for a missing person’s case, but you knew she wouldn’t dare cross paths with the police.

“Oh my god, you guys. This party is nuts. I’m not kidding! If your dress is ugly, you can’t wear it, no shit! They will bower your wardrobe!” Tammy rambled and rushed to get into the loft where she got everyone’s attention.

“I love that!” Lou quipped.

“Oh I gotta pee,” Tammy continued to ramble. “Every table cost a quarter-million dollars that if they allow you to buy one! I mean not just any $250,000 check will be approved, I mean they literally have to tell you whether or not they’ll take your money, it’s crazy!”

Everyone was standing outside the bathroom, still listening to Tammy rant about the Met.

“And then you can’t bring anyone, that you clearly go by yourself. They spend a hundred grand on food and apparently no one eats, it’s really crazy,” the blonde finished as she went out, kind of out of breath from the continuous rambling.

“Did you get the seating chart?” asked Debbie.

“The what?”

“The seating chart.” Tammy handed the special glasses she was wearing to Debbie.

“If I haven’t said it, it’s really crazy. This one person that I’m working with maybe is the only saving grace of that place. Thank goodness for Y/N,” the blonde sighed, capturing the attention of Lou.

She shared looks with Debbie, hoping that it was you their friend was talking about.

After discussing the seating chart, they approached Tammy and straightforwardly asked about you, if you were the same person she’d mentioned. Apparently, you quit your last job and had started few weeks prior to Tammy. Lou asked if you’re doing well, and almost cried when she nodded. When Tammy asked why they are curious, Debbie answered. “Lou’s girl. Left because of this dumbass right here.”

The blonde had a surprised expression on her face, a bit amazed at how small the world is. The person they’ve been looking for was only at their reach this whole time.

“She’s sweet. If you’re planning to get her back, which I know you would, you better not mess up.”

Since that day, Lou was itching to contact you but inhibited herself. She’d finish the job first, then she would have you back. If she was lucky enough to be given a second chance, which she wouldn’t fucking waste, she can finally go to California riding with you on her new bike like you always wanted to do.

Finally, it was the first Monday in May. Lou was still in the van with Nineball, preparing food for her. She remembered you telling her she would look good in a chef’s uniform. She wasn’t actually a chef right now, but she still owes you a hundred bucks.

What if you weren’t gone? Maybe you would be in on the heist too, and you would be the most beautiful woman in her eyes, everyone else in the Met is damned. She knew you would have loved and drooled over the green jumpsuit she was wearing.

The heist was successful, and the ladies were lounging at the loft. Their dillydally was halted when an unexpected guest has stormed the loft. Daphne Kluger.

“You guys are fucked,” the actress huffed. “Wow, nice place.”

“Excuse me, you are trespassing-”

“No, we asked her to come,” Lou cut Tammy’s accusation.

Debbie started to explain how Daphne might have gotten a sense of what they were doing, so they roped the brunette in. Daphne then asserted how she was the one who was saving everyone from insurance fraud. Another revelation had caused panic to those who didn’t know, scared that they might be busted and imprisoned.

“We will not be the prime suspect.”

“Then who will be the prime suspect?”

Lou listed several people like the security guys and the busboy. Their attention was focused on Daphne that they didn’t notice another person coming in. You quietly opened the door in purpose, glancing at each of the women inside. You’d heard the last bit of their conversation and captured their attention by announcing your presence.

“The shady guy who put Debbie away,” you casually commented, walking towards everyone.

“Wow,” Daphne chuckled. “The boyfriend.”

Everyone but Debbie and Daphne was shocked, for the third time around. They didn’t really expect guests today. Lou looked like she had seen a ghost but didn’t take her eyes off you.

“Yup. If they were gonna be looking for somebody, just had to make sure it wasn’t one of us.”

You whispered a “Hi, Tam” to your coworker, and took a sit in the middle of her and Daphne. “The precision, right?” the actress turned to you. “The attention to detail, a little grace note that really makes something sing.”

While she was blubbering about how well-thought the job was, she scooted closer to you and put a hand on your thigh. Lou raised an eyebrow at the action, jealousy bubbling in her chest.

“Why are you doing this?” Tammy asked, referring to Daphne. “And Y/N? You were in too? How?”

You let the brunette answer first and when she finished, Debbie had answered for you.

“She was our other mole in the Met, aside from you and Nine.”

“Oh, you were an angel, Y/N. She made sure I was okay after hurling my guts out. Much much better company than my date,” Daphne preached, leaning her head on your shoulder. You rest your head on hers in return.

Lou’s jaw was gritted, it was too much for her and she couldn’t look any longer. She looked at Debbie and gave her a perplexed look, asking for further explanation.

The brunette just shrugged her shoulder, knowing it was up to you to talk to Lou. After all, it was the reason she approached you. At first, she had only talked to you about Lou, but later called to ask if you were willing to join in the job. You’d said yes right away.

That night, you saw Lou sitting near the shore. She was staring straight ahead as you sat next to her.

“Lou?”

“You know, I planned to talk to you after we got the money. But you got to me first,” she whispered.

“You have to thank Debs for that.”

Lou chuckled, “Debs? What, you’re on a nickname basis now? She doesn’t even let me call her that.”

“She told me everything. And, I- I’m sorry, Lou. I shouldn’t have left like that, left you worried though you had a job to focus on-”

Lou cut you off as she pulled you in for a hug. “No, Y/N. I should be the one apologizing.”

Her hand was running up and down your back, the touch soothing all of your troubles. You can finally feel at peace. There was no snarling voice at the back of your head, no heavy feeling. You feel like a sailor in the middle of a calm sea.

“I’ll make it up to you, for real, this time,” Lou pulled back, giving you a smile. You nodded in return.

“Although you may have to explain first what was that earlier,” her smile faded, and glared at you playfully.

You were about to ask what she was referring to when you suddenly remembered. You told her how you may or may not have told Daphne that you were on a rough patch and she volunteered to help make Lou jealous. Both of you shared a laugh as she commented on how effective it was that she had to restrain herself from tearing you apart from the actress.

There was no time to waste, you thought as you pressed your lips against Lou’s. The kiss was slow and passionate, the both of you pouring all your feelings out. Her hand entangled itself on the base of your skull as she deepened the kiss, tongue swiping on your bottom lip asking for entrance. You let her dominate you, a soft moan coaxed out of your mouth.

The only thing you could focus on was the feeling of Lou’s lips; your hammering heart and the waves lapping gently at the shore.

“I love you, baby,” Lou murmured, both of you breathless.

“I know, Lou. I love you too.”

#cate blanchett #cate blanchett x reader #lou miller x reader #lou miller #ocean's 8 #ocean's 8 fanfiction #debbie ocean #tammy #daphne kluger

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randomshyperson · 3 years

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The Scarlet Witch Prophecy - Chapter 13 - The Sixth Year (Part Three)

My dear friend @abimess, I keep stealing your gifs and making updates without telling you. I hope you never get tired of it.

Summary: As the youngest daughter of Howard Stark, you have ordinary expectations for your years at Hogwarts. Little do you know what adventures await you when your destiny is intertwined with the legendary Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: +16. Adaptation of the Harry Potter Saga, Magical Thematic, Prophecies, Mentions of Violence, Torture and dark magic, Language (swearing and minor/major offenses), manipulation of will, Underage kissing, insinuation of smut with minors, Smut (overage), descriptions of death, aggression, obscurity, angst, fluffy, soulmates analogies. || Chapter Warnings: Magical torture with minors, cursing, angst, ptsd, derogatory thoughts and behavior, dark magic.

Chapter Words: 8.486 K

A/N> Yes, I've gone for a month without warning anyone, and yes that might go on, but at least i'm near ending this (I'm already writing chapter 21). Once I'm finished, I'll just programe tumblr to upload them all for me because i'm lazy. I hope anyone like this yet, i don't even know what i'm doing anymore. Good reading!

Series Masterlist || Read on AO3 || All Works Masterlist

Chapter 13 - Part XIII - The Sixth Year (Part Three)

Gossip really starts to irritate you when you go to lunch after potions.

"You want to say something to me, girl?" You charge impatiently when you hear the giggles behind you again, coming from a group of students sitting at Ravenclaw's table.

The group turns around with wry smiles on their faces, and you notice the editions of the Daily Prophet in the hand of one of the boys. It is Hope Summers, your classmate, who speaks first:

"We're just sharing some theories, Stark." She says in a provocative tone. "Some of us find it an interesting coincidence that just now that Mephisto is back, you and Maximoff are losing control of magic."

You frown.

"What are you talking about?" you ask in surprise, referring to Wanda, but Hope thinks you want her to keep mocking you.

"It's just suspicious that no one knows what happened to you in that dungeon, or at the ministry of magic." Hope counters. "And now you two are blowing things up, and we have a dark wizard on the loose."

"Fuck you, Summmers." You curse as you stand up, leaving the girl in shock at your aggressiveness.

The same auror from the first day stands in front of you as you try to approach Slytherin's table.

"Students must respect..."

But you interrupted his speech with a loud shove that sent him staggering backwards, and drew the immediate attention of several people.

You were seeing red by now, the man's wry smile only making you more irritated.

He drew his wand, but so did you. And the room held its breath.

"Put your wand away, Miss Stark." Warned the auror angrily, but you didn't.

Wanda stood up as she noticed the confusion, rushing to reach you, but the auror put his arm in her way.

"Now, miss." He warned again, and you grunted in irritation.

"Get your hands off her." You retorted, feeling your body fever with hatred.

"Stark." The man said, his arm reaching down to push Wanda back, and you exploded.

You didn't even finish thinking about the spell, the magic exploding out of your wand.

The auror masterfully blocked it, and you dropped your wand to jump on top of him.

It was a confusion of shoving, other bigger students pulling you away from the man and he away from you.

" Never fucking touch her again!" You warned snorting in anger, Thor Odinson stopping you from jumping on the man's neck.

"I just pushed her away from the line of fire, you crazy bitch!" The auror retorted indignantly and angrily. "Go to the headmaster's office now!"

"Fuck you!"

Thor pulled you out of the hall as the crowd of students whistled in celebration, excited about the whole fight. The auror was too busy dissipating everyone to follow you.

"Hey, hothead, calm down." The blonde warned as he released the grip of you by the courtyard. You grunted angrily, wishing you could break something.

"Fuck this school, fuck that asshole." You complained aloud, as Thor looked at you curiously.

"You have quite a rage, Stark." He comments, and you grumble in irritation.

But Wanda catches up with you the next moment, and she looks even angrier than you.

"What the hell was that?" she asks and you roll your eyes, running your hands through your hair.

"I think you are going to be fine for now on." Thor comments, smiling at the thank you Wanda says to him before leaving you two alone.

"So?" Wanda insists, arms crossed. You bite the inside of your cheek as you look at her.

"What do you want me to say?" You retort angrily.

"You just started a fight for no reason! Again!" She accuses. "Only this time it was with a wizard who could kill you. I want to know what's going on!"

"I don't know, Wanda!" You exclaim angrily. "Why does everyone expect me to have answers? I don't know! Do you understand that? It feels like I'm going to explode in frustration any second, neither you or Gamora seem to get it. I don't understand what's happening to me!"

"Because you won't talk to us!" She shouts back, just as annoyed as you are. "You're pushing everyone away! Even me! We can't help you if you don't talk to us!"

You grunt impatiently, turning around. There was a strange throbbing in the back of your head, a strange whisper. Like a voice telling you that no one was telling you the truth, that your friends expected too much of you, that Wanda didn't care...

This last thought made you sob. Wanda softened her expression immediately, taking a step toward you and touching your shoulder, but you pulled away from her touch as if burned, wiping your tears away quickly.

"Leave me alone, Wanda." You mutter between teeth. She hesitates, raising her hand toward you again.

"Please."

"I need some time from you." You insist, pushing her hand away, and walking away.

A part of your brain is begging you to go back and make things right, but there is a cloud of anger and irritation that keeps you walking.

//-//-//-//-//

You roll over in bed in discomfort.

Nightmares. Again.

It has only been five days since you had your fight with Wanda, and you are getting worse every day.

With Summers' teasing, you end up noticing other things too.

How the school really found the theory that you and Wanda were somehow related to Mephisto, because the minister had covered up what happened in the dungeons and in the ministry, and everybody thought it was strange that two students were showing an increase in magical potential with the return of a dark wizard.

Unlike you, who were failing considerably in any simple execution of spells, Wanda was demonstrating exceptional abilities. Kaecilius was more than willing to make her the face of progress at Hogwarts, you heard the gossip about bringing in reporters to share the news of the new direction.

You know that the only reason Wanda hasn't come after you yet was because you're running away from her like the plague.

And you couldn't even explain why.

You were also blocking out your real health condition from her. Just like you two practiced during the summer.

Besides hiding this from Wanda, you have kept your friends away too, isolating yourself from everyone else in search of a little rest, only succeeding in taking a nap when you are running away between classes.

And the detentions with Kaecilius keep increasing as you skip classes.

You begin to consider learning to write with a different hand, just so the bruise has time to heal, but at this point you don't even care about the scar anymore.

"You really must like pain." Loki teases wryly as you sit in an empty room, waiting for the aurors' shift change again after your detention.

You don't ask him what he's doing on that floor again, and he doesn't ask why you haven't spoken to your friends in two weeks.

"Sure, that must be it." You joke back, massaging your injured hand.

He assumes a pensive expression for a second.

"Are you sure you haven't been cursed by someone?" He asks, causing you to frown in shock and confusion.

"Excuse me?"

He gives a little chuckle, settling himself better against the wall.

"Everyone's been talking about you being sick." He says. "I heard some of the Ravenclaw people theorize that you became a werewolf over the summer."

You laugh helplessly, massaging your temples lightly.

"I guarantee that's not it." You say making Loki smile.

"If you are sick for no reason, it could be a curse." He says. "I wouldn't be surprised, the way things are."

"But how do I find out if I've been cursed?"

Loki takes a thoughtful stance.

"I don't know." He says. "But I'm sure you can learn that in the no longer reserved session of the library."

You laugh at the joke, but soon you both return to silence. When that hallway's shift ends, Loki sighs, getting up and helping you to stand.

"Still can't perform spells?" He asks, already drawing his wand.

"Only if I want to blow things up." You scoff making him laugh.

"Fine, I'll enchant you." He says. When you are transparent, he looks at you with an amused expression. "See you next Saturday, troublemaker?

"Don't worry, I plan on skipping DADA, maybe I'll be here tomorrow." You retort in the same tone before turning to leave.

//-////-//-//-//-//

It takes three more days for Wanda to finally corner you.

You are skipping class in an empty room on the seventh floor, trying to doze off, and almost fall out of your chair with fright when the door opens and Wanda comes in, looking annoyed.

You grunt impatiently, without lifting your face from the desk.

"I told you I needed time." You complain, but tense up when you notice the tears in her eyes as she moves closer to sit at the table next to yours.

" You want to break up with me?" She asks in a whisper and you raise your head immediately, feeling your chest tighten.

"What? What are you talking about?"

Wanda gives a humorless laugh at your expression. "Why are you acting like this is an absurd idea? You've disappeared. You've been avoiding me, not even talking to me anymore."

You shake your head quickly, feeling the urge to cry.

"I don't want to break up with you." You say. "I..I would never want to be away from you."

"You just said you need time away from me." Wanda retorts with annoyance, and you feel your stomach clench as she sighs. "I don't know what's going on with us. And I miss you, but you won't let me near you."

You are exhausted. So you cry.

You rest your head on your arms, and let your sobs fill the silence, hoping that the tears will take this bad feeling away.

It's Wanda's gentle touch on your back that helps.

"Babe, tell me what's wrong." She whispers to you, her tone concerned.

It takes many minutes for you to calm down. But when you do, Wanda holds your hand, kneeling on the floor beside the chair you are in.

"I can't do magic." You breathlessly tell her from crying, "And I can't sleep. I've been sick for weeks, and I'm angry all the time. Healer Cho doesn't know what's wrong with me, but everyone at school seems to have a theory about it. I think I'm going to suffocate, Wanda. I'm messing everything up. Between us, between my family, and at school." You sob as you finish and Wanda shakes her head, her hand coming up to your cheek.

"Don't say that." She urges. "You didn't ruin anything. Hey, look at me. I love you. Your sisters love you, your friends love you. We'll figure out what's going on."

Wanda hugs you tight, and you sob, shaking.

You want to believe her words, so you push the intrusive thoughts away, and believe it.

//-//-//-//

Wanda takes you to a door in that same floor you two were before, but you have never seen that door until that moment.

And you are very surprised to realize that it is a bedroom.

"How...?" You ask confused as she closes the it.

"Welcome to the Room of Requirement." She says with a smile, pulling you by the hand around. "We hold our Avengers meetings here." She counters and you frown.

"In a bedroom? Interesting choice." You comment and she giggles.

"No, my love." She says. "That's how this room works. It is charmed to meet your needs. That's why I asked you to come in first."

"Oh, that's pretty cool." You say looking around. Wanda smiles at you, and then you both reach the bed. "The room thinks I have to sleep?"

"I do too." Wanda retorts, pushing your shoulders gently for you to sit on the bed. "Go on, nice dreams."

You hesitate. "You gonna leave me here alone?"

Wanda denies with her head, pointing to the chair that probably just magically appeared next to the bed. You frown.

"Can't you sleep in the bed with me?"

She giggles. "We don't have much time for you to sleep. If I lie down, you'll want to kiss me. So I'll be sitting in that armchair, studying as I should." She explains seriously, and you pout.

"Stupid rules." You grumble moving your hands up to her waist. "Lie down with me."

"Babe..."

"Please."

Wanda sighs, then nods. You smile, quickly removing your shoes as she does the same. You quickly adjust yourself on the bed, opening your arms for her to lie on top of you, and she gives a little giggle before doing so.

"Are you cozy, sweetheart?" You murmur against her hair, and Wanda squeezes her arms around you.

"Yeah, your boobs are good pillows." She teases, making you laugh with reddened cheeks.

Your eyes begin to heavy quickly, fatigue catching up with your body relaxed by the comfort of the moment.

"Go to sleep, babe." Wanda whispers. "I'll be here when you wake up."

You smile with your eyes closed, surrendering.

It's the best sleep you've had in weeks.

The problem is that as soon as you start to wake up again, you are feeling sick.

You touch the emptiness in the bed, mumbling softly. When you open your eyes you find Wanda sitting in the armchair, the darkhold in her lap.

"Damn it, Wanda, this book again." You complain in a hoarse voice, but she just sighs.

"Why the attitude?"

"I hate that book." You grumble sitting up in bed, massaging your face lightly. "Why do you keep reading it anyway?"

"It's interesting." She says, closing the item to look at you. "Agatha really told me a lot, but there are also things I didn't know."

"For example?"

Wanda bites her lips, appraising you.

"Scarlet witches are forged, for instance." She says and you frown in confusion. Wanda sighs. "Many powerful witches, born scarlet witches, never got to fulfill their destiny because the forging didn't happen."

You straighten your clothes uncomfortably, pensively.

"What exactly does that mean?"

"What the headmistress did last year was my forging." She clarifies and you swallow dryly, feeling your stomach turn. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" you ask confused.

"Everything." She says upset. "I know we've talked about this, but it seems like all I do is cause you problems. With the bond, and with the forge. If Agatha didn't want my powers, she wouldn't have taken you to the dungeon and you wouldn't have suffered."

You poke at the knot of your tie, feeling yourself suffocate slightly. Wanda is speaking, you blink to focus on her words.

"I'm sorry, could you say that again?" You ask out of breath, sweating. You blink to find Wanda's concerned gaze on you.

"Babe, what's wrong?" She asks worriedly, her hands around your face.

You feel your head spin, and everything goes dark before you can answer.

//-//-//-//

You smell the scent of grass when you wake up.

Then you blink in confusion, getting used to your surroundings to realize that you are in what looks like a ward bed.

"Hey, all right, take it easy getting up, Miss Stark." Asked Professor Strange with one hand on her shoulder. In the other he held a potion that you imagined he had given you.

"W-what happened?" you mumbled confusedly, sitting up in bed. Only now did you notice Professor Munroe and Wanda standing in front of the bed, both with worried expressions.

"You passed out, but you're better now I imagine." Stephen explained gently, but you were still feeling very weak.

"Professor, she simply blacked out." Wanda commented in a tearful voice. " Don't you have any idea what's wrong?"

Stephen sighed, and then pointed at the chair, the darkhold.

"Where did you get that book?" He asked, and Wanda frowned, taking a step toward the chair in a defensive posture.

"What does that have to do with my question?" she retorted dryly, and Stephen looked at you one last time before standing up.

"There's a reason it's called the Book of the Damned, Miss Maximoff." He says."It damns its readers."

"That's ridiculous." Wanda retorted, crossing her arms. "I've been reading it for weeks and nothing has happened."

"Not with you."

Wanda hesitates, widening her eyes. And then she takes a step back, swallowing her cry as she reaches out to grab the book and hand it to Stephen.

She turns her gaze back to you, and lets the tears fall.

"I am truly sorry." She says with a mixture of guilt and shame before turning to leave the room.

You call out to her about three times, but she leaves and you don't have the strength to go after her.

"Damn, couldn't I have said that in a different way?" You complain angrily to Stephen, who just sighs, exchanging a look with Professor Munroe. "How come you two are here anyway?"

"It was Wanda." Professor Ororo replies. "She asked the room for someone trustworthy to help her with you. Then there was a door opening in the potions room. Stephen was there with me, and we both came."

"Great." You mutter annoyed, thinking about how you are going to talk to Wanda and convince her that you were not angry with her. "Would either of you happen to know how to make me better now?"

"Sure." Stephen comments by raising the book in the air, and with a wave of his hand, the item dissolves into several pieces until it is gone. "I didn't destroy it, if that's what you're thinking. I just put it away, to prevent something like that from happening again."

"Congratulations." You grumble wryly as you straighten up in bed, the same migraine from before is now weaker, but it's still there.

"You know, you had a better attitude when you didn't have a magical doom on your spirit." Stephen complains, causing you to frown, but Professor Ororo gives a chuckle.

"Thanks professor." You comment wryly, making him laugh. He sits back down beside your bed, and pulls out of the cover a small notebook.

"Now that Miss Maximoff has stopped reading the book, I suppose you will get better." Stephen says, making you sigh.

"You suppose? That's encouraging." You say moving to stand up.

"Where are you going, Miss Stark? You need to rest." Warn the professor, but you ignore him, and ignore the weakness in your body as well.

"What I need, Strange, is for people to stop lying to me."

"No one is lying, Miss Stark." Professor Ororo states next. "We really don't know the extent of the magic the darkhold carries."

"And why is that I imagine?" You sneer. "Because someone omitted the truth from you, and it's been passed down for generations, isn't it? Well, that's over now. Because we've finally studied everything in this place, including a book that condemns anyone who reads it." You exclaim impatiently, stooping down to put on your shoes. "If you two will excuse me, I'll figure out how to get better on my own. But first I'm going to explain to my girlfriend that none of this is her fault."

Ororo and Stephen are silent, but you wouldn't have been paying attention to anything they said anyway.

Soon you are up and out of the requirement room looking for Wanda.

//-//-//-//

She seems to have disappeared from the castle, so you must concentrate to use your instincts.

The hardest part is dodging the aurors, but you finally reach the astronomy tower.

You're a little out of breath from the run, but it's the image of Wanda standing on the edge, the sunlight in her hair that leaves you breathless.

"Hi." You say in a low tone, your hands in your pockets as you approach. She startles slightly, wiping away tears as she keeps her gaze forward.

"What do you want here?" she asks in a husky voice. You sigh.

"That you stop hating yourself and listen to me." You say and she lets out a short laugh.

"And what do you think you can say?" She questions turning her body toward you. "All I do is hurt you."

You shake your head, but Wanda lets out a tearful laugh.

"No you don't understand." She says. "Since I met you, you have only brought me good things. Affection, happiness, hope. You've been that kind warm feeling that I need on my worst days. Hell, you're even the memory for me to cast a patronus." She confesses with emotion, her face wet with tears. "But me? All I bring you is pain and suffering. And now I even bring sickness. This is wrong, I hurt you. You need to see this, and understand that we can no longer happen."

"Don't say that." You ask, reaching up to touch her face, wipe away her tears. "That's not true, Wanda. I love you, you make me..."

"Stop it." She interrupts with a sob. "Don't make it any harder than it already is."

"Please, Wanda, listen to me." You plead, resting your forehead on hers, your hands on her cheeks. "You make me happy, you are the only thing that makes me happy, I love you, please..."

Wanda kisses you hard, and you respond with the same intensity, both of you gasping into each other's mouths.

But then she is pulling away, thrusting you farther apart.

"I'm sorry." She cries, taking a step back. "We're over."

And she's running away again, and this time you don't go after her.

//-//-//-//-//

Without Darkhold's being consumed, you really start to improve in terms of physical health.

The only problem is the emotional ditch you find yourself in.

Gamora, Nebula and Mantis find you, again in the Room of Requirement, skipping class.

"My god this is worse than last time." Gamora remarks as she looks around at the mess of junk food and pillows. The room had been transformed into a "comfortable place", which basically had the appearance of a living room, with several soft armchairs, and lots of unhealthy food. "Why did you guys break up this time?"

"Please don't talk to me." You grumbled, your voice coming out muffled because you were lying on two soft puffs, your face buried in the pillow, your hand inside a bag of muggles snacks.

"I bet you five bucks they'll be back together before the end of the month." Nebula commented and you sniffled against your pillow, hearing a noise that sounded like Gamora hitting her sister.

"We talked to Wanda." Mantis said. "And with Professor Stephen, too. We're sorry about everything, but have you decided you're not going to study anymore?"

"I don't care about school." You grumble against the pillow. "Leave me alone, I want to cry."

Nebula gives a short laugh, and Gamora elbows her.

"Stop hitting me, you crazy." Nebula complains loudly, moving away from her sister to approach you, taking the bag of snacks you have, and making you complain softly. "And you stop being such a drama queen. Aren't you two like soul mates or some shit? It's just a fight, you'll work it out. You're acting like you've never broken up before."

"Your sensitivity is admirable." Gamora scoffs, pushing her sister away to sit next to you, stroking your back until you look up at her. "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

You feel the urge to cry arise again. "Wanda thinks she is bad for me." You say. "And she doesn't want to be with me anymore, and I want to die."

You start crying again, stuffing your face into the pillow as Gamora strokes your hair.

"How did this happen anyway?" Nebula asks, confused, chewing on salty snacks."You barely slept at home over the summer to be with her, and now you guys are breaking up. It's hard to keep up with this relationship."

"Merlin, Nebula shut up." Gamora asks impatiently, and her sister raises her hands in surrender with an ironic expression. You want to scream against your pillow, but all you do is try to control your crying.

"You can't keep disappearing, sweetheart." Gamora says as she runs her hands through your hair, trying to calm you down. "Kaecilius has already noticed. He's trying to figure out where you're going, and eventually he'll figure it out since you can't stay here forever."

"Maybe I can." You mumble making Gamora laugh softly.

"Come on, I'm sure you miss a decent meal." She says. "Why don't you join us for lunch?"

"I can't sit at your table."

"Who said anything about a table?"

This is how you end up on the edge of the great lake, at a picnic.

Mantis gets several dishes from the house elves, and since lunch is a free social hour, nobody seems to mind that you are eating outside.

Your sisters are not the only students who, over time, have learned ways around school rules.

You grumble slightly as you feel the sun on your face, but lie back on the grass, closing your eyes.

Your mind wanders back to last summer immediately, the memories of Wanda, and you feel horrible. You just want her back. And then you swallow the urge to cry again to accept the juice Mantis offers you.

"We wanted to tell you that we've found a way to help you, too." Gamora says after a moment, causing you to raise your eyebrow. "About the darkhold, and the eternal damnation thing."

"Light topic." You sneer, throwing your arm over your face. The day is hot. "I appreciate the help, of course."

Gamora giggles. "Merlin, I had forgotten how grumpy you get when you're upset."

"I'm not upset, Gamora." You retort angrily. "I'm frustrated."

"Sexually." Nebula sneers, making you grunt in anger, but Mantis holds back a laugh.

"What's your problem with my feelings lately?" You accuse the girl with irritation.

"Not everything is about you, you know." She retorts and you sit up quickly, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Nebula laughs, rolling her eyes. "In case you haven't noticed, there's a war going on." She says. "We're all stressed and scared. And the three of us have been in the same classes as you, having to watch the same things. But you only have time for Wanda. And now you've broken up, again, because there's some mortal danger, again, that she's caused for you. So, I don't know, but maybe she is right to break up. Ever since you guys started dating everything has been about her, and the trouble she causes!"

"Fuck you, Nebula!" You exclaim angrily, advancing against the girl in front of you. Gamora and Mantis quickly separate you.

"Hey, what's wrong with you?" Gamora shoves you. "Were you really going to hit her?"

"Fuck this." You curse angrily, taking a step away. "I didn't ask any of you to come after me. I don't need you. I just need Wanda. Fucking leave me alone."

You turn back to the castle, cursing the wild on your way.

//-//-//-//

Loki is the only friend you have now.

You wouldn't call him a friend exactly.

Kaecilius has put you in detention for three days a week, including Saturday, but mostly you just clean the castle. But when he takes you to the seventh floor, and makes you scrape sentences against your own skin, you don't worry about being alone anymore, because Loki is always on that floor.

It takes a week for you to tell him about the requirement room.

" You could have mentioned it earlier, we would have stuck around here." He comments without sounding upset.

Soon it doesn't take long for you two to start seeing each other even when you're not in detention.

You are not surprised that Loki also skips classes, he has always been quite mischievous, but the reason is different from yours.

He knew dark magic. Much more than you or your classmates. And he has no interest in practicing it in class.

"It's stupid." He comments as you are sitting in the armchairs. "Most people will never have the courage or willpower to cast a death curse. It's useless to learn."

"Is that the only reason you don't agree with the teaching at Hogwarts now?" You ask in surprise, setting up the chessboard for yourself as Loki shrugs his shoulders.

"I feel like you're judging me, Hufflepuff." He sneers but you smile, rolling your eyes.

"Honestly, I don't give a damn."

And you really didn't care.

Wanda was avoiding you in the halls, and you were doing the same with your friends and family.

When Iron delivered the mail to the Slytherin table, including Nebula's birthday presents, you wanted to throw up, but all you did was walk away from the Hufflepuff table toward the requirement room.

Without the darkhold, you didn't feel sick, but the anger didn't go away.

Your magic hadn't stabilized, and you were failing at everything, but you couldn't bring yourself to worry about it.

Erik wrote to you, commenting on the importance of you and Wanda practicing magical balancing together, and you burned the letter while crying on the carpet.

And at this rate, time went by.

It was almost the middle of the school year when things started to take a turn for the worse at Hogwarts, and in the wizarding war as well.

Mephisto is getting stronger, and the order is losing. And Kaecillius must be under some pressure from the ministry, maybe for answers from organizations like the Avengers, which are forbidden, because his detentions get too horrible.

It is Saturday again, and you drag yourself to the room where you are supposed to fulfill your detention, but unlike the other days, Kaecillius locks the door.

You only notice because he seems tense and distracted, and there is no feather or book.

"Professor, what will my punishment be today?" You ask confused, and he is nodding to the center of the room as he stands in front of the desk, a few feet from you.

"Miss Stark, today I want to ask some questions and I expect honesty." He declines as he turns to you.

You hiss softly, putting your hands in your pockets.

"Shoot."

Kaecillius doesn't even mind your lack of formality, looking at you with an impassive face.

"What is Mephisto's location?"

You choke in surprise and disbelief. "Excuse me? Why do you think I know that?"

"The ministry has reason enough to suspect that the Order of the Avengers is nothing more than a cover for the death walkers.Your brother, whom I had suspected of being part of that order of delinquents, is no longer at Hogwarts, but you will have to serve." He speaks and with each word you become more outraged. "Now answer me, where is Mephisto?"

" Did you just fucking call my brother a delinquent?" You mutter incredulously. "I have no idea where Mephisto is, what's your problem?"

But you widen your eyes when the professor draws his wand, and you barely have time to swallow dry before the spell hits you in the chest.

It's the cruciatus curse. You know the second it hits you. The sharp pain fills every cell in your body and you scream, not having the strength to stand or with your eyes open, hugging yourself.

"We must not tell lies, Miss Stark." Kaecillius says as soon as he stops enchanting you, the pain disappears in the same instant, but you continue to tremble.

In complete shock and fear, you sob.

"I will ask you again, where is Mephisto?"

You let the tears flow, and shake your head. "I don't know, professor."

Kaecillius lets out a sigh of disappointment. "Some cases are more difficult than others." He comments somberly, taking a step toward her. "Did you know that the record for enduring the Cruciatus curse before madness is six hours? Incredible, isn't it? It happened during the first war, with a muggleborn. You're a half-blood, maybe you can take longer"

He has a devilish grin as he finishes, and you clench your jaw at the threat.

"I don't know where Mephisto is." You repeat, but the professor points his wand at you again.

"My bet is seven hours."

And then the pain returns.

You don't know how long you stay in that room.

But it is long enough for your consciousness to begin to fade. The pain gets so severe that it gradually fades away. You begin to gasp breathlessly, not even able to scream anymore.

Someone help me. Please, help me. Help me. Wanda.

Between the tears you see the floor of the room, and between a twinge of pain, a red light. And everything is dark again.

//-//-//

“Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Warcraft and Wizard is arrested in flagrant by aurors from the ministry of magic this week, full coverage on page..."

You blink confusedly, your eyes getting used to the clarity, while the headline of the Daily Prophet was the first thing your vision caught.

And then you shifted in bed, realizing that you were in a hospital room , and whoever was reading next to you put the paper down when they heard you, and you could behold the curious look on your brother's face.

"Tony?" you whispered confused, and he smiled as he stood up quickly, the newspaper forgotten on the armchair.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" He asked as his hand reached for the loose strands of hair on your face and put them back. "You scared the hell out of me."

"What happened?"

"What's the last thing you remember?"

You thought, and then sighed, closing your eyes for a moment.

"Kaecilius."

Tony bit his lip nervously before speaking.

"I'm sorry." He said, lowering his hand to his own. "I came here as soon as I got the howler from Professor Strange, but honestly, I didn't even need it, because all the newspapers are talking about it."

"What...?" You started in confusion, but Tony hurried to explain.

"Wanda found you, Y/N." He told. "She, well, wasn't exactly happy about the whole thing. I think she lost control. Kaecilius is lucky to be alive if you ask me. She almost destroyed the seventh floor, it was a huge mess. And then the aurors interfered, and soon there were reporters everywhere. I guess now everyone knows she's a scarlet witch."

You widened your eyes, straightening to sit up and grumbling a little in pain. Tony looked at you with concern, asking you to take it easy, but you were already asking about Wanda.

"She's at the ministry of magic." He clarified. "Kaecilius is going on trial for torturing a student, and she will answer for putting everyone in danger."

" What?" you ask incredulously, and Tony sighs.

"Yeah I know it's unfair." He says. "But the minister of magic seems to be looking everywhere for people to blame for his lack of control. The problem is how much of that information will get to Mephisto. The whole ministry seems to be full of walkers."

You ran your hand across your face, frustrated.

"I'm so tired, Tony." You confess in a whisper. "It feels like everything is falling apart around me, and things are only getting worse."

Tony squeezes your hand. "I'm sorry, I really am. This whole situation sucks, and I wanted to help you. I'm trying, sister. I haven't been talking to you as much as I should, but I didn't want you to think you're alone. I'm working on breaking the bond. To free you and Wanda from the prophecy, and the wizarding world from dangers like Mephisto. I'm sorry I haven't been by your side."

You swallow your cry, and nod, trying to smile at Tony. He reaches up to hug you, and you gasp softly, taking a few seconds to relax and let the tears flow.

When you calm down, Tony tells you that he is going to get a Mediwizards to check your situation.

You lie down again, sighing softly. The memories come back with full force, and you choke softly, feeling your body tremble.

It's as if you can feel the curse again, sense the pain on your skin. Opening your eyes and shaking the memories away, you swallow dryly and reach for the glass of water on the nightstand.

You just want Wanda by your side telling you that everything is going to be okay.

//-//-//-//-//

You stay under observation for two days.

Doctor Hank makes a joke about you enjoying St.Mungus more than you should since you keep coming back, but Tony doesn't laugh.

Then you' re going back to Hogwarts by train, because the doctor thinks you shouldn't use magical means of transportation for a few days, and it's weird to take the empty express, but as soon as you arrive at the station, Gamora and Nebula are waiting for you with boxes of candy bought in Hogsmeade, and tight hugs.

You are not surprised by the stares you receive from the other students, but you ignore them as your sisters escort you around the castle to the Hufflepuff communal hall.

"Did you get to talk to Wanda?" Gamora asks as soon as you sit down on your bed, sighing with exhaustion from the train ride. The mention of the other sorceress' name doesn't help.

"Not yet." You say. "And I wouldn't be surprised to hear that she's ignoring me."

Nebula exchanges a look with her sister before sitting down on Mantis' bed, who is hugging her knees and looking at you.

"Honestly, I just want to finish this year without any more problems." You confess as you take off your jacket. And there is a moment of silence before you swallow dryly. "I also wanted to apologize to you guys."

Gamora frowns slightly, but says nothing. You take a deep breath.

"I know I was under the influence of an evil book, but that was still no excuse for treating you guys like that." You begin. "Tony told me about how things are in the wizarding world. Everyone is going through something, and it was selfish of me to think that only my problems matter. I'm sorry."

"Really, Y/N, it's okay." Nebula says, surprising you a bit. "We were all stressed, and well, I think an evil book is a pretty fair excuse." She jokes, making you smile. "Maybe things will get a little better now that Strange is the director."

"Oh, that's right" You comment just then remembering the things Tony updated you on while you were at St.Mungus. Like Kaecillius' resignation, and the position being passed on to Professor Stephen. "But honestly, I won't be at peace until I hear from Wanda."

"The trial isn't until Friday. And the way things are going, we won't get any news until it's over." Gamora warned as she sat down on the bed next to you. "I think the Maximoffs are probably too busy to write."

"What do you think will happen to Wanda?" You ask as you tug at the loose strands of the comforter. Mantis sighs lightly.

"I don't have a good feeling about things, Y/N." She confesses and you frown in concern. "And the stars never lie."

"Thank you, Mantis." You mock softly, and Gamora runs her hands through her hair.

"Let's not be pessimistic, okay?" she says. "Maybe the predictions are about, I don't know, the school finals? It doesn't mean something bad is really going to happen."

You grumble unhappily, grabbing a pillow and sinking your face into it. Gamora strokes your back.

"I'm sure things will work out, Y/N." She says. "Wanda will write as soon as she can."

"Do you guys think Kaecilius will be sent to Azkaban?" Nebula asks next, making you raise your head curiously.

"I wouldn't be so sure." You grumble. "I was actually surprised that he was put on trial at all."

"Well, with the whole mess that happened, it was bound to happen." Gamora said. "More than half the school became aware that he used the cruciatus curse on you, and then the daily prophet. And I didn't even know they were in the castle."

"It was because of Wanda really, wasn't it?" Mantis added. "Kaecillius caused his own ruin. He called the journalists to show what he called progress and decided to torture a student while they were in the castle. Then Wanda destroyed the entire floor and the next morning his arrest was all over the pages."

"I'm just really outraged to know that if no one had seen it, he would probably still be at Hogwarts." Gamora says angrily, and you sigh, agreeing as well as the others.

"Well, you must be hungry, shall we go to the great hall? It's almost dinner time." Gamora comments next, pulling you by the hand. You grumble softly, but agree, and soon you are leaving the communal hall to join the rest of the students.

//-//-//-//-//

You are tapping your fingers gently against the desk as you wait for the History of Magic class to begin.

It is Friday, finally.

You have barely slept because of anxiety about news of Wanda's trial.

Things at Hogwarts have changed a lot this week, all because of Strange's administration.

He restored the old classes, banned the teaching of dark magic, the scandal at the Daily Prophet being enough of an argument that the Minister of Magic no longer had a defense over this kind of teaching at Hogwarts. The restricted session of the library was also put back, and the seventh floor was off-limits because of the destruction Wanda caused, and you unfortunately lost access to the Requirement room.

Mantis was writing what looked like a lunar calendar for the divination class while Professor Okoye didn't arrive, and you started whistling distractedly.

And then Thor Odinson was poking you in the back to get your attention, and you turned around in your chair.

"Hi, Stark, what's up?"

"Fine." You grumbled suspiciously. "Can I help you with something?"

Thor looked almost unsure. "I was just wondering if you know of anything going on with Loki."

You frowned. "Excuse me?"

"I mean if you know if he's sick or something." He explains. "We had a fight, and well, he's not talking to me. And I've noticed that you guys have been kind of close lately, and I was curious if you knew anything and..."

"No, Thor, I'm sorry." You interrupt with a sigh. "Maybe you should ask him that."

Thor assumes a sad expression. "I would, but he's ignoring me. I think it might be about our mother."

You make a confused expression, and Thor looks surprised.

"Our mother, she...died earlier this year, Y/N." Thor counters, and you widen your eyes. "Our family is a name of reference against Mephisto. With the war, the walkers came to our home. She was there while we were here, and Dad was at the ministry."

"I'm so sorry, Thor." You whisper to him, still shocked by the information. He shrugged.

"I thought Loki told you."

"We don't talk about things like that, I guess." You say. "Sorry, I wish I knew how to help you."

"No, it's okay." Thor says with a sad smile. "You being his friend this year is more than enough. I don't like seeing him all alone out here."

You nod lightly, settling into your chair as you notice the teacher entering the room.

Mantis exchanges a look of understanding with you, having overheard the conversation even if accidentally, but she says nothing, and soon you are hearing about the witch hunt in the United States, and you try to focus on that rather than curiosity about how Wanda's trial is going or Loki's current emotional state.

//-//-/-//-//-//

As soon as lunchtime begins, you join the Slytherin table, where some of the students have placed a radio on the table, equally with other students from the other houses, to listen to the trial.

You are not surprised that a student's trial is such an interesting topic for everyone, but after the school started talking about Wanda being a scarlet witch, and the theories circulating around the halls, it was to be expected.

So you sit back while biting your fingertips and listening.

"And now directly from the Ministry of Magic, the trial of seventeen-year-old witch Wanda Maximoff, daughter of legendary witch Erik L-"

Your attention is slightly diverted from the narrative when loud laughter catches your ears.

They are Gryffindor and Slytherin students, exchanging coins. You don't need to hear the conversation to know they are gambling about the trial, the mean laughter and glances in the direction of you and your sisters are enough.

And as if she could feel your growing fury, Gamora touches your shoulder gently.

"Just ignore them, Y/N." She urges and you clench your jaw. " Everything is going to be okay with Wanda."

"I hope you're right, Gamora." You grumble, turning your attention back to the radio.

The narration of the newspaper is generic, and you discover that the audience has been closed off to the reporters.

You take a deep breath, concentrating.

No strange feeling, so Wanda is safe.

You wonder if Erik and Pietro are by her side during the whole thing.

It is only at the end of lunchtime that you have the result.

"It's amazing how things unfold in the ministry this afternoon." Counted the reporter with almost excitement. "After a unanimous vote, the witch Wanda Maximoff was found guilty of endangering her fellow students by not registering as a scarlet witch to the ministry of magic, after it was proven that her father, the sorcerer Erik Lehnsherr knew of her condition, as well as the affiliation with the criminal, Agatha Harkness was also mentioned. The ministry finally decided on Wanda Maximoff's expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizarding"

You felt your stomach plummet.

And everything became a little muffled around you, a soft whistle in your ear. You think Gamora and Nebula were calling for you, but you were getting up, feeling the room getting too small.

Stumbling out, you loosened the knot of your tie, finally stopping in the courtyard as you leaned your body against a pillar.

Wanda had been expelled from Hogwarts, publicly exposed as a Scarlet Witch, and tried as a criminal. You wondered if they would break her wand. Banned wizards led horrible lives.

Your sisters and friends caught up with you quickly, and you let them hug you.

In a few minutes Director Strange is catching up with you as well, and you release Gamora's grip to talk to him.

"Professor, I need to..."

"You cannot leave Hogwarts, Miss Stark." He interrupts with a wave of his hands and you frown in confusion, ready to protest but he is already speaking. "Tony sent a patronus as soon as the results came out, he already figured you'd want to see Miss Maximoff. The ministry is a mess, and Wanda will be staying with her father there for the minister's final decisions. You should stay here, where you are safe."

"That's not fair!" You squawk angrily. "Wanda needs me, I must-"

"She needs you to be safe." He interrupts again seriously, and then lowers his tone slightly as he notices the curious looks of the surrounding students. "Be rational, Miss Stark. Now that the Wizarding community knows the nature of Wanda's powers, how long before Mephisto has enough information and discovers your identity as protector."

You swallow dryly, clenching your fists begrudgingly. Stephen is right. You look away, and he sighs, placing his hand on your shoulder.

"Wanda will be fine, even without her NEWTS, she is an extraordinary witch." He says. "And the year is coming to an end, soon you will be able to see her again."

"She needs me now." You grumble annoyed, turning away from the professor's touch. He looks at you for a moment and then clears his throat.

"I'll see what I can do, Miss Stark." He says."In the meantime, focus on your studies, and be careful."

You frown at Stephen's words, but he is already turning and leaving before you can ask.

As you turn to your friends, Gamora has a worried look on her face.

"Are you okay?" She asks, and you sigh, agreeing to hug her again as you mumble no.

"I can feel how upset she is, Gamora." You grumble against your sister's shirt, wishing you could hug Wanda now. Gamora squeezes you against her arms, and you thank her for her intention even if it isn't enough.

The next few days are like a blur for you.

Many letters arrive, as do many editions of the Daily Prophet.

When the picture of the day Wanda's wand was broken comes out on the front page and you see her tired face, you have to run out of the common room to keep from crying in front of your colleagues.

Everyone writes to you, even Carol, everyone but the Maximoffs.

It is frustrating, and honestly, it breaks your heart in many ways.

The news of a Scarlet Witch after a century is almost as bombastic as Mephisto's return, and you're not surprised that many of your colleagues would start to comment on the possibility of Wanda working with him or against him.

It's overwhelming how everyone talks about her, but all you can feel is how much you miss her around the castle, around you.

You couldn't even remember that your magic is stable, and with everything that has happened, you haven't had time to figure out how to fix things.

Stephen tried to help, but he didn't know what was going on. At least the theoretical part of magic you were able to master, and you hoped to get at least an acceptable score in some subjects.

Only almost a week and a half after the trial, Professor Strange interrupts the potions class to talk to you.

Ignoring the curious stares and whispers of your classmates, you ask Professor Munroe to excuse you, and leave the room.

"What is wrong, professor?" You ask curiously as you close the door, watching Stephen with his hands in his pockets.The dungeons feel emptier without the ministry aurors around the castle.

"Saturday, in the Astronomy tower, nine-thirteen at night." He says as he hands you a small gold key, causing you to frown in confusion. "You will have exactly one hour, Miss Stark. Not a second more."

You stare at the object in your hand, and understand. A portal key. To Wanda.

"Thank you, Professor." You say, and Stephen nods before leaving.

You turn back to potions, the object in your pocket. You could barely contain your anxiety.

//-//-//-//-//-//-//

Tag list> @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia || @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @helloalycia // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS // @drpepperobsessed // @sighsam // @olsensnpm // @sxfwap // @table57 // @madamevirgo // @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo // @emptysince18x // @xastrydx || @yuhloversxx || @ymzki-haruki || @wouldirunofftheworldsomeday || @lostandsearching || @lezzzbehonesthere || @musicinourlips || @chaekhan || @diaryoflife || @nervoustrack || @aquamarinescarlet || @cristin-rjd || @idamaemann || @fortunatelynerdylight || @iliketozoneout || @blackwow34 // @tiny--freak || @spongebobtentacles || @cyberbonesworld ||

A/F/N> Place your bets for my next comeback (a week, a month or tomorrow?). If I delete the blog, and you're in love with this story for some reason I don't know about because there are so many better things to read, know that I'll post everything on AO3 if I ever do.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #scarlet witch x reader #marvel imagines #The Scarlet Witch Prophecy #elizabeth olsen x reader #harry potter au

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marauders-venting · 3 years

Text

Worth The Wait

pairing: wolfstar (remus x sirius)

genre: fluff & angst

warnings: mentions of being sick and throwing up

words: 2502

a/n: this is a request I got from someone on Instagram and I absolutely love it!

“Evans, are you sure you’re okay?” Sirius asked, glancing over at her. Lily was sitting in the corner of the common room, bent over the table, her head resting on her arm. She had been looking peaky all day, which Sirius might not have noticed if James hadn’t pointed it out to him. 32 times to be exact.

“Do you think she’s sick, Pads? Should I ask her? Nah, she’ll get mad at me. But if she really is sick she should be in the hospital wing. But what if I ask her and she’s actually fine and she thinks I’m insulting her or something?” James had finally asked her if she was alright at dinner when she hadn’t eaten anything.

“I’m fine,” she had said. Except she hadn’t snapped at him. In fact, she smiled a little. James had practically glowed. “Just a little nauseous.” But it was an hour later and Lily still looked ill.

“I’m fine,” she repeated, this time to Sirius. “I’ll be fine.” She lifted her head, looking back at her half-finished essay.

“Lils, you’re pale as fuck,” Marlene said. “You’re sick.”

“I told you, I’ll be fine,” she said. Less than ten minutes later, Lily had rushed to the bathroom and thrown up.

“Okay,” she said when she came up. “Maybe not so fine. I think I have a stomach bug or something, I’ve been nauseous all day.”

“Come on, I’m taking you to the hospital wing,” Mary said.

“Wait,” she said. “Remus and I have prefect rounds.”

“Don’t be stupid, I’ll cover for you,” Remus said. “You do it for me all the time.”

“Thanks, Rem.”

“Of course. Feel better, Lils.” She and Mary headed for the portrait hole. Sirius glanced at James, who was biting his nail and not paying any attention to the textbook lying open in front of him. Sirius knew he wanted to go with Lily — he was worried about her — but he didn’t want to annoy her. Not when they’d been on such good terms for the past few months.

Barely five minutes had passed before Marlene said, “Well, there’s no point working on this shit without Lily.” She gestured to the essay.

“I could help you if you want,” Alice offered.

“Don’t worry yourself, Alice, she knows,” Dorcas replied before Marlene could say anything. “She could do it herself if she wanted to. She just doesn’t want to do it and that’s her excuse.”

“Shhh stop exposing me,” Marlene said, flopping dramatically onto Dorcas’ lap. “I’m too tired to write essays now.”

“Well, are you gonna go to sleep any time soon?” Dorcas asked, raking their fingers gently through Marlene’s hair. Marlene took Dorcas’ other hand and kissed it.

“Only if you can’t think of anything better for us to do,” she said.

“Oh baby, I can think of several things we can do,” Dorcas said, smirking.

“Oh?” Marlene said, sitting up. “Such as?”

“Well, I’ll give you a hint,” Dorcas said. “They all involve a bed, but not sleep.” Marlene grabbed Dorcas by the hand and pulled her towards the staircase leading to their dorm.

“I’d steer clear of your dorm if I were you, Alice,” Peter said, looking up from the textbook in his hand.

“Yeah,” Alice laughed, “I think I’ll go see Lily in the hospital wing. If Madam Pomfrey will let me in.” So she got up and walked out the portrait hole too.

Half an hour later, only Sirius, Remus, Peter and James, who had been surprisingly quiet this whole time, remained in the common room.

Sirius was sitting on a couch, his feet up on the table in front of him; he had given up on the essay long ago. He knew he would still get a decent grade though, even if he had barely put any effort into it.

Remus was sitting on the floor beside him, his essay spread across the table. Remus quickly scribbled the end of a sentence and flopped his head back onto the couch, groaning.

“It’s going to be so boring, walking around the castle alone,” he complained. “I mean, I guess I shouldn’t complain since Lily does it for me every month, at least once but still.”

“You don’t have to do it,” Sirius said. Remus slapped his leg, the one that was near his head.

“You know I do,” he replied.

“Fine then, I’ll come with you,” Sirius said.

“You can’t do that,” Remus said.

“Says who?” Sirius shrugged.

“Well, are you a prefect?”

“Do I look like I care?”

“Fair point,” Remus said. He looked like he was contemplating it.

“So d’you want me to come with you or not?” Sirius asked. His heart was beating faster than it should be. So he’d be walking around the castle with Remus. So what? It certainly didn’t mean anything. Remus hesitated a second before replying.

“If we get caught, can I pin it all on you?” he asked, grinning at Sirius.

“Sure,” Sirius shrugged. “It’s not like they can give me more detentions without cutting into lesson time, can they?” Sirius stood up, cracking his knuckles nervously. He wanted to be alone with Remus but if James and Peter wanted to come… Well, he couldn’t tell them not to without it being weird. But Remus didn’t suggest it and neither one of them seemed eager to join.

“We won’t wait up,” James said, smirking at Sirius. James saw right through him. Sirius didn’t care, as long as he didn’t make it obvious to Remus. Like he was doing right now. Sirius pointed the finger at him from behind Remus’ back.

“Hold on, I need to put this essay upstairs,” Remus said. He ran up the stairs to the dormitory.

“I officially give up on this essay,” Peter said, slamming the textbook shut. “I don’t care, I’ll do it tomorrow. My brain isn’t functioning now. I need a shower and sleep.” He got up and started up the staircase after Remus. “‘Night,” he called.

“G’night, Pete,” James called back.

“‘Night, Wormy.” Once Peter was out of sight, Sirius rounded on James.

“James, I swear to god, if you keep making jokes, I will personally murder you,” Sirius said.

“Oh relax, would you? Nobody takes my jokes seriously except you. Although I guess that makes sense.” James laughed at his own pun.

“That was pathetic,” Sirius said, shaking his head. “Only I can pull those jokes off. It’s my name.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” James said. He hesitated for a moment before asking, “Do you think I should have gone with her?”

“Relax, Prongs, she’ll be fine,” Sirius said. “Mary and Alice are with her. Besides, I doubt Madam Pomfrey will let you in.”

“Yeah, I guess,” James said. “Do you think she’d be annoyed if I went to visit her in the morning?”

“I don’t know, James. She might not even stay overnight. Not for a stomach bug.”

“Yeah, probably not. I can’t do what you do and sit by my crush’s sickbed, staring wistfully at their beautiful face and wait for them to wake up so I can spend all day caring for them,” James said.

“What? I don’t do that,” Sirius said, going red.

“Of course, you do,” James said matter-of-factly. “Every month. It’s very sweet, by the way. Disgustingly sweet.” Sirius elbowed him in the ribs. “But really, are you just never going to tell him?” James added. But Sirius didn’t get a chance to reply because Remus came back downstairs and headed straight for the portrait hole.

“See you guys later,” he called.

“Moony, wait for me,” Sirius pouted, hurrying after him and trying not to think about what James had said.

“Don’t be so slow then,” Remus said as Sirius caught up to him at the end of the corridor.

“Slow? I’m the one who waited for you to put your essay in the dorm!” Sirius exclaimed.

“Shh, you can’t yell,” Remus said. “Especially since you’re technically not supposed to be here.”

“Fine, I won’t yell,” Sirius said. “So what are we supposed to do?”

“Literally nothing,” Remus said. “We walk around the school until we’ve covered enough ground that I can report back to McGonagall and say that there are no students out of bed and then we go back to the common room. It’s boring as fuck.”

“Well, I’m here to keep you entertained, Moony, so prepare for the best prefect rounds of your life,” Sirius said.

“Why does that concern me more than it comforts me?” Remus replied.

“Because you’re cynical and mean,” Sirius said.

---------

“I can’t believe you do this like four times a week,” Sirius said, as they headed to McGonagall’s office. “How haven’t you died of boredom yet?”

“You didn’t have to come, y’know,” Remus said. “Your complaining doesn’t make this any more enjoyable.”

“I’m not complaining, I’m making a point about how unfair this is for you,” Sirius said, as they reached the end of the corridor.

“Trust me, I know,” Remus said. “Now wait here while I tell McGonagall that I’m done. Don’t be loud.” It only took Remus about three minutes to get back but Sirius had already made himself comfortable on the floor. He hopped up when he saw Remus come back.

“Let’s sneak out,” he said immediately.

“What?”

“Let’s go out to the grounds, by the lake.”

“Sirius, we’ll get caught.”

“No, we won’t.”

“Yes, we will. We don’t have the Cloak.”

“So? We can be stealthy. And, worst case, we get caught. So what?”

“First of all, you suck at being stealthy, Sirius, and second of all, I’m a prefect. I’m supposed to be setting a good example. And it’s not really setting a good example if I get caught breaking the rules, is it?”

“Don’t be such a buzzkill, Moony. Pleeeeease. I promise we won’t get caught. There’s nobody awake to catch us, everyone will have gone to bed by now. And we can look at the stars. Come on, Moony, you love astronomy. Plus you won’t have an annoying professor asking dumb questions that nobody cares about. Pleeeeease?” Sirius pouted.

“Fine,” Remus said, grudgingly. “If we get caught, I’ll kill you.” But Sirius was right. Everybody must have been asleep because there wasn’t a single person in the corridors.

Remus and Sirius crossed the grounds and went over to the lake and sat down side by side. Remus lay down on the grass and stretched his arms above his head. Sirius flopped down beside him.

“Do you recognise any of these?” Remus asked.

“Some,” Sirius said. He pointed at the sky. “See that star right there? That’s the dog star, Sirius.”

“And this is the thousandth time you’ve told me,” Remus said, rolling his eyes.

“Well if there was a star named after you then you wouldn’t shut up about it either,” Sirius said. Remus rolls his eyes again. “And if you don’t stop rolling your eyes, they’ll get stuck.”

“Stop giving me reasons to roll my eyes then,” Remus says. Then after a moment, he adds, “is there a wolf star?”

“Uh-huh,” Sirius nodded.

“Where?”

“Right here,” Sirius said, poking Remus with his elbow.

“Shut up.” Remus rolled his eyes again.

“I’m complimenting you, Moony.” Remus didn’t reply. He sat up and stared at the lake. Sirius sat up as well. He thought of what James said earlier. He could technically never tell Remus about this. He could keep it a secret. He could grit his teeth and try to get over it. But the way Remus looked at him now as they lay under the stars… their eyes met and Sirius couldn’t explain it but something gave him a feeling that maybe he wasn’t the only one thinking about it. He could see a faint blush on Remus’ cheeks from when he’d called him a star. And he’s so close.

Sirius wasn’t quite sure what possessed him at that moment but he slowly inched closer to Remus. He leaned in and brushed his lips against Remus’ but Remus turned his head away from him, ending the kiss before it even started. Sirius moved back quickly. He didn’t want to invade Remus’ space, he didn't want to force himself on Remus.

“I’m sorry,” he said, so quietly he wasn’t sure Remus had heard him.

“Don’t be,” said Remus. He was looking at the floor. “I just…” He just what? Sirius waited. He wanted to help Remus along like he always did but didn’t know how. He was usually so good at understanding how to help Remus explain himself when words would fail him, how to prompt him without pushing him, but now… Sirius wished a hole in the ground would swallow him. He’d fucked up bad. Sirius didn’t want to pressure Remus so he stayed silent. But the silence was awkward and filled with tension.

“Maybe… maybe we should just…” started Remus, struggling to get out words, “maybe we should just stay… friends.” Sirius felt like someone had kicked him in the gut and knocked all the wind out of him. He bit his lip and it was all he could do to stop the tears rushing to his eyes, begging to spill onto his cheeks. He should have seen this coming. Why should Remus ever want to be with him? Just because he’s had feelings for Remus for the past few months, didn’t mean Remus returned those feelings. What was he thinking, trying to kiss Remus? He wished he hadn’t done it.

Sirius must have been delusional to believe that Remus might want him. Delusional or in love. Same difference, really, he thought. He couldn’t digest this. He felt sick. He turned away, afraid that he would vomit on Remus.

“If that’s what you want,” he said. His voice was feeble. It sounded empty and dead. He hoped Remus couldn’t hear how hurt Sirius felt. He didn’t want Remus to feel guilty. It wasn’t Remus’ fault that Sirius fucked everything up. It wasn’t Remus’ fault that Sirius had fallen in love. (Well, actually, one could argue that it’s entirely his fault, Sirius thought, I mean look at him! How am I supposed to not fall in love with him?) Sirius couldn’t look at Remus.

“Sirius, I—” Remus started. Sirius waited but Remus didn’t continue.

“I think I’ll go now,” Sirius said. He wasn’t whispering but his voice was very quiet. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.” He was, after all, breaking a school rule. And Remus was a prefect. He stood up without another word and Remus remained silent as Sirius started walking away. Sirius didn’t look back. He didn’t want to see Remus (his amber eyes that could go from tired to fiery in seconds; his soft, brown curls that he brushed away from his face with his hands; his small, sweet, addictive smile that came with a crinkle next to his eyes; his hands covered in scars; in other words, too fucking perfect for words), it would be too painful.

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catrasredemption-moved · 3 years

Note

can I ask a prompt with some ppl giving pregnant catra a hard time? (is it still okay for pregnant catra? if not then it's okay too)

Vomiting TW

Time didn’t heal all wounds.

Catra was aware of it, and she didn’t take it personally when people glared at her or made comments. She drew the line at people trying to physically hurt her, but usually at that point Adora was between her and whoever was taking a swing, and she didn’t have to worry too much.

Even ten years later, Salineas was still the worst place to go. The kingdom had recovered nicely (due in no small part to the hours of sleep Catra had sacrificed to rebuild it), but memories lasted.

Mermista’s word trumped all feelings, though, so when Catra was invited to Salineas, no one could really protest.

“I’m still not sure why we couldn’t teleport,” Glimmer grumbled. “Pretty sure the boat is worse for Catra.”

It absolutely was. Catra had spent most of the journey leaning over the edge, or resting limply against it while Melog tried to comfort her. “Are you sure she’s okay?” Bow added, raising an eyebrow as he looked at her. Adora rubbed the back of her head nervously.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course I’m sure. I’m just... going to go check on her.”

She scrambled across the deck, joining Catra, who was starting to look a little green. “Maybe we should’ve just let Glimmer teleport us,” she said uncertainly. Catra shook her head furiously.

“No. No magic around the baby. Not like that.”

“Then can we at least tell Glimmer and Bow why? They’re worried.”

Catra raised her head to look blearily at their friends, who weren’t even trying to pretend they weren’t staring. “Maybe later,” she mumbled, dropping her head back against the edge. “If I survive this trip.”

They hadn’t told anyone outside of Mystacor they were trying to have a baby, and they hadn’t told anyone when they’d found out last week that Catra was pregnant. They were going to, but she was only six weeks, and they wanted to just wait a little longer, to be absolutely sure. They didn’t need pity if anything went wrong.

“We’re almost there. Just take a deep breath.”

Catra did as she was told - then groaned when the smell of salt water hit her sensitive nose. “Bad idea,” she groaned, leaning over the edge again. Adora rubbed her back pityingly.

It was a relief to finally dock, even if it took Catra an extra few minutes to collect herself and get up. They weren’t that far from the palace, but Glimmer still offered to teleport. “Nope,” Catra said, squaring her shoulders. She was not going to spend the rest of the night locked in the bathroom.

She felt a little better by the time they arrived at the ball room. It was Mermista’s birthday, which was pretty much the event of the season in Salineas. Catra was sure she would have reluctantly accepted if Catra had played sick to stay in Bright Moon, but... who was she to turn up some of the best sea food in the kingdom?

“Yeesh, I figured you guys would get here first,” a dry voice said as they walked into the already crowded room. They looked at Mermista, who was watching them with a dry smile and a raised eyebrow.

“Happy birthday!” Bow and Glimmer hugged her tight.

“Catra insisted on not teleporting for some reason so we had to take a boat-”

“What, was two hours of being sea sick better?”

“A little fresh air never killed anyone,” Catra said dismissively. Mermista rolled her eyes.

“Sure.”

Catra went straight for the food table, dragging Adora with her. “Well at least you’re feeling better,” Adora teased, squeezing Catra’s hand.

“Oh shut up-”

“She-Ra!”

Every time, without fail. Catra rolled her eyes, sighing, as Adora was waylaid by several admirers. She wasn’t about to wait - she was starving. And the baby was demanding shrimp.

And she wasn’t alone for long. Scorpia and Perfuma were already at the table, talking and snacking. “Hey Wildcat!” Scorpia said happily, scooping Catra into a hug. She winced, but smiled, patting Scorpia’s back.

“Hi Scorpia. You mind? I’m dying.”

Scorpia set her down, letting her get to the table at last so she could eat. “How was your trip?” Perfuma asked. “Bow mentioned you were taking a boat.”

“Yeah, enjoying the sights, you know.”

“Did you develop some love for the ocean?” Scorpia asked doubtfully. She’d seen Catra on boats a couple times. It never went well.

“I mean...”

Her attention was torn between Scorpia and Perfuma and the food, not to mention the din of the party. She had almost no warning before a rough hand grabbed the back of her shirt, throwing her to the ground. She landed hard, head snapping back with a crack. The world went blurry for a minute.

“-tra? ...okay?”

Perfuma’s voice drifted in and out. Catra grimaced, blinking a few times to clear her vision. Perfuma was kneeling beside her, trying to help her sit up, while Scorpia held Adora back from punching out the chef who had decided it was a crime for Catra to be enjoying herself in the kingdom she had destroyed. She sat up, grimacing, one arm crossing her stomach. Six weeks. She wasn’t fragile by any means, not like she would be in about six months, but that didn’t mean she could just be pushed around and thrown into floors, either.

“Hey!”

Mermista’s voice reverberated in Catra’s head. The princess cut through the crowd that had gathered, furious. “Adora, stop trying to murder my chef and take care of your wife. Sea Hawk, put him in cell.” The chef started to protest. “You don’t think you get to assault someone at my party and get away with it, do you?”

Sea Hawk appeared to take the chef away; there was no further protest. Adora knelt on Catra’s other side, gently sliding an arm across her back to support her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Catra took a few deep breaths. Her head hurt, but she was fine. The baby was probably fine. It wasn’t even really a baby at this point, just a bunch of magically bound cells trying to make a baby, it would suck if something happened, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world. It wasn’t like Catra hadn’t already taken to talking to her stomach when she was alone, or poking it experimentally, thrilled about the little life growing inside, or-

“Catra? Catra, hey.”

She was shaking, her breath coming a bit too fast. Adora had a hand on her cheek, trying to get her attention. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Does something-”

The world turned over in a sickeningly familiar way. Catra pressed her face into Adora’s shoulder, groaning, as soon as they were settled wherever Glimmer had taken them.

“Glimmer-”

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to get you both out of there.” Glimmer sounded nervous. Catra wanted to look at her, but her eyes were still squeezed shut and she had no intention of opening them. “I’ll... I’ll be right back.”

She teleported away. “There’s a bed,” Adora said quietly. “Do you feel okay moving?”

“Sure,” Catra muttered through gritted teeth. That turned out to be a lie; she forced her eyes open as she was moved, and the world was spinning. Nope. “Adora-”

A small trash bin was forced into her hands before she could finish the sentence. And of course Glimmer chose that moment to return with Bow, Scorpia, Perfuma, and Mermista.

“Should... I get a doctor or something?”

Adora rubbed Catra’s back as she heaved. “No... maybe? I’d rather take her to Mystacor-”

“For a head injury?”

Catra cracked an eye open to look at Adora, who was watching her uncertainly. She nodded miserably, returning her attention to breathing and trying not to freak out. So much for keeping it to themselves.

“Well, she’s um... she’s pregnant, actually.”

Dead silence followed the words.

“I’ll kill him,” Glimmer declared.

“I’ll help.” That was Scorpia, surprisingly.

“Okay, okay,” Bow cut in. “Maybe murder isn’t the right idea...”

“Let’s not out-rule it completely,” Mermista said darkly.

“It’s probably fine,” Catra mumbled, setting the trash bin aside. “I’ve been sick for like, two weeks, this isn’t exactly a new development.”

“Seeing a healer might still be a good idea,” Perfuma pointed out. “When you’re ready to move.”

“Is this why you didn’t want to teleport?” Glimmer asked. Catra ducked her head, refusing to answer. “Why don’t I go to Mystacor and get someone, and if they say you’re okay, I can take you home - that has to be better than suffering on the boat.”

“I didn’t think the boat would be that bad.” Catra sighed. “You guys don’t have to stand there and stare at me. Go back to the party - I mean, yes, get a healer first.” She’d feel better just confirming that everything was okay. “But it’s stupid to stand around staring at me.”

“It’s not stupid to want to make sure you’re all right,” Bow said. “And what about our future niece or nephew?”

“Why don’t you stay, Glimmer goes to Mystacor, and the rest of us can go back downstairs,” Perfuma suggested. She had spent enough time with Catra to know when she was starting to get overwhelmed. Scorpia started to protest, but stopped when Perfuma placed a hand on her claw.

“I’ll send up a staff member in case you need anything,” Mermista compromised. Catra nodded, since it didn’t seem like she had much of a choice. She knew her friends cared, though.

Everyone left, and Bow immediately joined them on the bed. “I didn’t know you guys were trying to have a baby.” He was doing a very good job at restraining his excitement and not shouting. “How far along are you? Do you have thoughts about names?” He gasped. “Will they have little cat ears?”

Catra smiled slightly, dropping her head to rest on Adora’s shoulder and letting Adora handle the questions. She knew her wife had been dying to talk about the baby with someone besides Catra, and it was nice to listen to their excited chatter fill the silence.

(Everything was in fact fine, save for the slight head injury, and the healer assured them that it was perfectly safe to teleport with Glimmer. Catra vehemently disagreed with that last part, but that was an on-going debate.)

#MAN that got long I'm sorry #anyway um #here?#pregnant catra #askbox fic #Mystery Person #Sam Answers

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ashbrea381writings · 3 years

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Flying Blind: Chapter 1, Bats in Paris

Four-year-old Richard Grayson glared at the girl in front of him. Marinette Dupain-Cheng was just six weeks older than him, and right now, she was taller than him too. “You’re gonna lose.” He taunted in heavily accented French, “I got super high scores and you can’t beat them!” “Don’t even think about it! I’m gonna win!” Marinette’s fists were clenched and her face red. “Just you watch!” The Dupain-Chengs and the Graysons shared an amused look over the heads of the children. “How are you doing?” Tom asked, chuckling about the children’s antics. “We’re good, we’ll be starting another tour this summer, then probably settle down for a couple years before moving on.” The two children started shouting even louder, causing them to be dragged apart by their exasperated parents. This happened every competition, for years.

***

Five years later, Richard stopped showing up to competitions. Marinette was annoyed at first, grumbling about him being a chicken who didn’t want to face her. At another competition, a month later, she heard one of the judges talking about the Graysons, making a sad comment about the loss of so many talented people, the wasted potential, an entire family of fliers just gone. Marinette stiffened in shock, her eyes wide as she processed what they had just said. Bolting to the locker room, Marinette yanked her hair out of it’s bun and changed back into her street clothes, hiding in the bathroom stall and crying. When her parents find her some minutes later, they make sure she isn’t hurt and take her home. “He’s dead… Dick’s dead.” She told them tearfully in the car on the way home. “All of them are.” Marinette stopped going to competitions after that.

***

Ladybug could feel the tension in her shoulders as she confronted the man before her, Chat a step behind and to her left. “If your Justice League doesn’t want to help, you could at least stay out of our city.” Her arms were crossed as she glared at Batman. “Why do you think the League wouldn’t help?” Robin asked, his accent strong but his pronunciation carefully precise. “We only heard of the situation recently.” “Oh? I called the League two years ago when our mentor gave up his memories to prevent Hawkmoth from getting something important.” Ladybug spat, letting her disgust show without letting it be bad enough that Hawkmoth could sense it. “I got told to stop playing games and they hung up on me.” “Who did you speak with?” Batman asked, pulling out a small tablet to take notes. “I don’t know, they didn’t say. Male, light voice in the baritone range, sounded way too cheerful until he decided I was lying, then he was just an ass.” She shrugged and gestured to the city around her. “‘Paris is fine, we would have noticed if something bad happened.’” She quoted in a near-perfect impression of Hal Jordan that made Batman frown. “Did you mean to do an impression?” Robin asked, somewhere between surprised and trying not to laugh when the girl his age was able to deepen her voice that much. “It’s accurate, I was there to hear him.” Chat chuckled, crossing his arms and shifting to lean on just one leg. “The guy continued to rant about children making prank calls and how he didn’t even know how we had the number.” “The fact that we had it at all should have told him the truth.” Ladybug scoffed. “Look, I’ve been doing this for four years. If you really wanna help, you’ll need to make sure you don’t fall victim to Hawkmoth yourself.” “And how does one do that?” “Mostly by repressing your negative emotions.” Chat shrugged, looking out over the city. “To be honest, it’s getting harder for Parisians to keep up their hopes. Our ages don’t help either, there are plenty who keep demanding we give up our Miraculi to older, more experienced people, but not just anyone can wield them.” “The personalities of the people wielding them must mesh well with the Miraculous, or it corrupts you and either causes you to become someone you wouldn’t recognize, or makes you very sick.” “That explains why you can’t pass them on, but why were you two chosen?” Robin tilted his head, moving forward a bit more. “We were the best candidates at the time. Our former mentor read our auras to make sure who meshed with which Miraculous and gave us a test to make sure we were the type of people to help others even when it’s not in our best interests.” Ladybug sighed and turned to look as a loud ‘bang!’ sounded from the direction of the Eiffel Tower. “Always the tower, I still don’t get it.” Chat sighed, prepping to take off. “Don’t ask me, Kitty.” Ladybug grabbed her yo-yo. “Stay back out of the fight unless you see a civilian in danger. You don’t know what you’re up against.” Batman looked like he wanted to argue, but the teen heroes took off in the direction of the Akuma that was currently pulling pieces off of the Tower and throwing them at the ground nearby. Batman and Robin found a spot just outside the action to observe. Other members of the Miraculous Team were already on the scene, moving civilians and calling out information to each other. Viperion split off from the action to intercept Ladybug and seemed to have a lot of information. Once they conferred for a few moments, a suddenly weary-looking Viperion gave signals to several of the team members. The Akuma was released, captured, and purified. With the Cure cast, the Tower was repaired and the Miraculous Team collectively shared quiet celebrations before separating except for Chat Noir, who’s Cataclysm hadn’t been used. “LB and the others are going to recharge, check in with their families after the attack, and meet us. I’m to lead you to somewhere private where we can talk more thoroughly.” Chat was brisk, seeming tired. “Your Snake friend… He spent a good portion of the fight observing and only really called out instructions for the most part. Why is that?” Robin asked as they started running across rooftops. “That’s his part. Ladybug is Creation, I’m Destruction, he’s Intuition. He watches the fight and uses his ability to make sure we do not fail when we cannot avoid it otherwise.” Chat answered vaguely, enjoying the verbal cat-and-mouse. “Are you going to tell us what his power is?” Batman asked, his exasperation audible in his voice. “The more information we have, the better we can plan and the more help we can give.” “I’m gonna let Viperion explain, he’s a chill guy, he won’t mind telling you. Besides, they’re all gonna be there and I think LB plans to give you two a rundown of everyone anyway.” Chat explained, dropping down into a small garden hidden between buildings. There was a small storage shed that Chat opened, removing a handful of chairs and a folding table. “I believe LB plans on bringing refreshments, will you help me set this up?”

***

An hour later, the rest of the team had assembled, with more than just Ladybug bringing snacks and drinks. There was something for everyone, although Batman chose not to eat. “So, a rundown?” “My powers stem from Creation, I create an object that helps us in the fight, purify the Akuma, and my Cure repairs any damage done by the miraculous during that specific Akuma fight. If too much time passes after the Akuma was purified, I can’t put it right.” Ladybug began, pointing to Chat next. “His power is from Destruction, he can destroy any one item he touches or a portion of a surface such as the ground or a wall. He can control how far the destruction spreads to a degree, it’s something we’re working on. Viperion has the power of Second Chance, he sets a timer and within that span of time he can reset to the beginning as many times as he wants theoretically. The problem is that he’s the only one who remembers what happened in the timeline he reset, so he has to be able to remember what to do so we can succeed.” “Is that why you suddenly looked more tired during the fight?” Robin asked, brows furrowing. “Yes. Seeing your friends get hurt over and over will do that.” The shaggy-haired hero sighed, shaking his head. “As much as I dislike seeing it, I know that I can prevent it as long as I still have my power active and as long as I’m able to give them the right information when we reset. I’ve gotten a lot better than when we started, but it helped when Chat started to realize I knew what I was doing.” His eyes sparkled with a bit of humor and Chat shook his head with a goan. “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?” Chat asked, stretching. “Nope, never.” “Anyway.” Ladybug glared at the two boys, but it lacked conviction. “You’ll have to give me the rundown later of how many times we reset. Moving on, Rena Rouge, power of Illusion. Carapace, Protection, his shields are nearly impenetrable.” Ladybug pointed out each hero in turn. “Honey Bee, she can paralyze a person with her stinger, most of these have a duration and are usable just once for now. Pegasus can make portals to anywhere, again, once and there’s a time limit after using it. King Monkey isn’t here right now, but his power disrupts those of whomever is touched with an object he summons. We have one more teammate who doesn’t get involved often. Their name is Bunnyx, and they don’t show up much unless we really need them. They travel through time.” “So you have a time-traveler to come pull you out? Then why don’t they tell you who Hawkmoth is?” Batman demanded. “Because one: that’s cheating, and two: that’s not how they’re supposed to figure it out.” Came another voice from above before a blue, white, and pink blur dropped down behind Ladybug.

***

Note: The competition is for Gymnastics if anyone’s confused.

#dickenette #maribat #mgi trope tussle #dc #miraculous au #soulmate

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yslkook · 3 years

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#all hands on deck (8)

#corporate masterlist summary: in which the tokyo team comes to seoul for a workshop. feelings are felt and dinner is had. and jungkook gets sick. word count: 8.1k warnings: cursing, a fight, discussion of mental health, some suggestive themes a/n: ENJOYYYY and thank you to @cutechim for your endless support <33

The new year brings the strengthening of your friendship with Jungkook. You’ve had exactly two late nights at work in preparation for the Tokyo team arriving in Seoul this time, and Jungkook had paid for dinner each time. He’d refused for you to pay despite your insistence.

Either way, it’s on the company card, so at the end of the day it didn’t really matter. But still, it’s the thought that counts.

Late nights at work meant that eventually, you’d stop talking about work and start talking about each other, about life. After all, you could only spend so long staring at the same powerpoint slide deck.

And you’d rather stare at him. You’d rather stare at the tattoos that line his corded forearms, at the way his sweater sits deliciously on his torso and outlines his narrow waist, or the way his pants always seem to sit just right on his thighs. And his eyes, his bright, brown eyes filled with mischief and magic when he looks at you.

You sigh audibly, your hand curled under your chin.

Jungkook immediately turns his head towards you with a quirk of an eyebrow and a lazy smirk.

“See somethin’ you like?” He drawls, not bothering to hide how he gazes at you. It reminds you of something slow, something that lights a fire in your belly.

“You know it,” You reply easily. As if your heart isn’t fluttering with the heat of his eyes.

Jungkook is silent for a moment, his lips pursed and eyes trained on you. He doesn’t hide the way he lets himself indulge in you, his gaze lingering on your lips, your eyes, your shoulder (where he knows your tattoos bloom and flourish).

And god, he just wants you to tell him about all of your tattoos. He wants you to let him trace over the inky trails, he wants to hear if there are any stories behind them. He wants to hear any and all of your stories. Your voice is one of his favorite things.

“I see somethin’ I like,'' Jungkook murmurs. He’s looking straight at you, nothing but sincerity dripping from his eyes. It should be sinful- the smolder of his eyes, the slight upturn of his lips. Suddenly, the man before you oozes confidence but you think he’s always oozed this natural confidence.

It makes something else flutter, too.

You’re suddenly very flustered, your cheeks blazing and you stammer and nearly trip on your feet to grab your laptop charger from your backpack. Only to fumble with your charger and drop it on the floor in a tangled mess. You bend over immediately to retrieve it, and hide your face from him for a second.

Jungkook groans internally. You’re standing in front of him, with your back to him and your ass is on display for him. Right in front of him.

“Uh,” You mutter, “S-sorry. What were we doing?”

“It’s just me,” Jungkook says softly, pushing the image of your ass to the back of his mind, “No need to be nervous around me.”

Jungkook always keeps you on your toes.

And that’s how many of your late nights at work go- even if Sana and Namjoon are present, you both find a way to quietly flirt with each other. You find a way to admire him with heart eyes. And you catch his gaze on you more than once as well.

There’s also been several times when you were both supposed to be working together on something for the submissions project, but instead ended up spending the entire afternoon together in a conference room once you finished your work. It’s so easy to talk to him, about anything and everything. You laugh loudly and unabashedly with him and you feel like no time between you both has passed at all.

It feels like you’ve known him for years. And maybe that’s the truth.

When February comes, it brings the Tokyo team to Seoul. It also brings your boss acting like an asshole and nearly throwing you and Sana under the bus at an update meeting in front of the entire Tokyo team and your team.

But Namjoon vehemently sticks up for you both, as he always does. You ignore the burn of anger and tears at the back of your eyes and tell yourself that someday, you’ll get out from under his wing.

And with February comes Mark.

Mark, who has been texting you way more than usual ever since he and the team had landed in Seoul. You make the incorrect assumption that he’s been texting Namjoon just as much as he’s been texting you. What other reason would he have to be texting you, if not for work related purposes?

And you feel obligated to respond- after all, he’s your superior.

To you, it’s small talk mostly. Nothing quite significant. But even Grandma notices your phone lighting up far more than usual at dinnertime.

“Who’s texting you? Do you have a secret lover or something?” Grandma asks, peering over her plate to look at your phone.

“Yes, I’ve been sneaking out every night after you fall asleep to meet up with them,” You roll your eyes, “It’s just this guy from work. He works in Tokyo. Remember, I told you about him? The guy who got the job I wanted a few years ago. Like, two years ago at this point?”

“Ah,” Grandma says understandingly, “If he’s in Tokyo, why is he texting you?”

“Our teams are working together on something big,” You sigh, “Mark is the team lead for Tokyo and Namjoon’s the lead for us. Their team is in Seoul this week.”

“Even Jin doesn’t text you like that,” Grandma observes, “You need more girlfriends, sweetheart. All of this testosterone can’t be good for you.”

You snort, “Trust me, Grandma. I know. Yuna and I are closer now, though. Her friends are really nice. Remember, I told you I met them at New Years?”

Grandma hums in acknowledgement. “What about that boy? Jung...Jung something?”

“What boy?” You feign aloofness, stuffing your face with rice to avoid her sly gaze.

“The one that when he texts you, you look like a lost puppy-”

“Lost puppy! I do not look like a lost puppy- I’m a big, bad wolf, if anything,” You grumble, crossing your arms, “Lost puppy… Can’t believe you.”

“Okay, big, bad wolf,” Grandma rolls her eyes, “This one makes you look like a lost puppy.”

“Jeon Jungkook,” You mumble, “His name is Jungkook.”

Grandma looks at you long and hard, dark eyes narrowed and lips pursed. You’re transparent in her gaze- you’ve never been able to hide anything from her. Not since you were a child. And this time is no different. She somehow has been your fatherly figure, your motherly figure and your grandma all at the same time.

You don’t know how she does it. You don’t know how she did it.

The lines around her eyes relax- the same eyes that you have. She carefully chooses her next words:

“Don’t break your own heart trying to protect it.”

When Mark asks you about dinner during the lunch break at one of your workshop days. He sounds hopeful asking you to dinner at that one seafood restaurant that you had told him about months ago- it was so long ago that you had nearly forgotten about it. You make the mistake of assuming that this was solely a work thing.

He’d made dinner reservations for both of you when you had agreed. A formidable pit begins to form in your stomach once you had agreed to it. And you’re unable to return the dazzling smile he gives you- only managing a feeble upturn of your lips.

But he was your superior- you had to say yes, right?

So you go to dinner with him. You meet him at the restaurant after going home and enduring a series of questions from Grandma. You tell her that what she thinks isn’t the reality- that it’s just dinner with one of your many bosses-

“Then be careful. Corporate Seoul is… intimidating.”

You wonder if you’re crossing a line that you shouldn’t cross. You wonder if Mark even understands the implications of him asking you to dinner, whether platonic or not.

The back and forth in your mind sets you on edge. Should you cancel? You could always feign sick. But even that doesn’t sound right. Maybe you should go to dinner to see what his intentions even are. Maybe you’re just...overthinking it. As usual.

You decide to wear business casual to dinner, wanting to set unspoken boundaries with Mark. Your heart is thundering in your chest, but even these jitters are nothing compared to when you had met Yuna’s friends, had kissed Jungkook’s cheek, had asked Jungkook to have ice cream with you.

Jungkook. Butterflies flutter in your belly at the thought of him. He surprises you, or rather it surprises you how quickly and openly you had welcomed him into your life. How you trust him with your open, bleeding heart. The thought of his big, doe eyes and the wet, pink pout of his lips sends your belly into a frenzy.

You push him to the back of your mind for now, to focus on Mark.

You meet Mark outside of the restaurant- he looks sharp as ever and he looks like he knows it. The scent of his cologne wafts into your nose- it’s not unpleasant. His hand lands on the small of your back respectfully as he asks about your day-

“You were with me for most of it, Mark,” You roll your eyes and he laughs.

“You look nice,” Mark says, lazily turning his head to look at you.

“Thanks, you sound surprised,” You tease.

You don’t return the compliment. He does look nice and handsome tonight, wearing a dark blue sweater that fits nicely on him.

This is not a date. You haven’t been on one of those in a long, long while. So you won’t return the compliment.

The restaurant is dimly lit for dinnertime, the lights bouncing off of Mark’s bright eyes. It’s bustling, but the noise around you isn’t overwhelming.

You don’t particularly like seafood, but you’ll do anything to keep the anxiety at bay. Including eating crab, when it’s the last thing you want to do.

“How’s your food?” You ask a little desperately, trying to break the awkward silence that you had certainly fabricated.

“Great, you wanna try? I knew you had good taste, but you just keep impressing me,” Mark says easily, his eyes washing over you.

You look beautiful in the dim light of the restaurant, the soft glow of the lamps illuminating the planes of your face.

“Good taste?” You scoff, “And how could you possibly know that I have good taste? I mean, it’s true, don’t get me wrong. But-”

“Well,” Mark says smoothly, “You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re pretty. Obviously, you have good taste.”

“You don’t need to butter me up, Mark,” You roll your eyes but still smile at him.

“‘M not. Just being honest,” Mark shrugs and throws you a charming grin.

“Whatever you say,” You reply, taking another bite of your food. He points to the corner of your mouth and you wipe away some stray sauce.

“Not gonna return the compliment?” Mark teases lightly.

“Now why would I need to do that?” You reply, “That’s hardly appropriate, considering you’re one of my bosses now.”

“You don’t need to be so formal with me-”

“Oh? Why’s that?” You ask testily, coolly raising an eyebrow.

“We’re not at work,” Mark says, “You can be yourself around me, you know.”

“I am being myself around you,” You say pointedly, “What you see is what you get, Mark.”

Your reply confuses him. You pay it no mind. The rest of dinner goes as smoothly as that- you ask him about work, about living in Tokyo. You keep the conversation on him, hardly allowing him to ask anything about you.

Just how you had wanted it. You ask the right questions, laugh at the right times and pay just the right amount of attention to him.

Enough to fool him into thinking you were having a great time and enough for there to be no awkward lull in the conversation. Not that you were having a particularly terrible time to begin with… you just genuinely didn’t want to be here.

After all, you’d rather be at home with Grandma. Your thoughts flutter to Jin for a moment. Then Yuna. Then to Jungkook.

Mark is nice enough. He asks if you’d like to get ice cream with him after dinner. To which you say no- getting ice cream with him feels too intimate for two people who are just colleagues.

And maybe spontaneous ice cream reminds you of Jungkook. You say no to him, under the guise that you need to get home to Grandma. Which technically isn’t a lie.

Disappointment flashes across his eyes quickly but it’s gone as quick as it comes. He waits with you until your Uber to go back home arrives. You hate taking Ubers from the city back home by yourself- normally, you’d park at Seokjin’s apartment building and drive from there. But you hadn’t told Jin that you were going to dinner with Mark.

Maybe you should have.

You catch Mark glance at your lips for half a millisecond too long and take about five steps back from you. Your heart thunders in your chest again, and you feel lightheaded.

Had you misjudged this dinner? Was this not just dinner between two colleagues?

You swallow nervously and hug your arms around your waist. You and Mark keep up with the small talk for the most part, but you’re already spacing out.

“Hey,” Mark says softly, once the Uber arrives, “Get home safe, alright?”

You decide that maybe you should at least give him a hug, and even he seems surprised when you open your arms to him.

“You too, Mark,” You murmur, “Good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling hopelessly. Your comforter is pulled up to your chin and you want to sleep, you want the comforting lull of sleep to overtake you. But it doesn’t.

So you stare at the ceiling. You pull your phone off of the nightstand and see that you have an unread text from Seokjin:

jin: how was dinner with mark

How did he know? You sigh, palming your forehead. Nothing ever gets by him. He always seems to know everything, even when he doesn’t.

you: fine 😐 how’d you know i went to dinner with mark... jin: not bc you told me, that’s for sure

Irritation flares up inside you. You love him, but damn he can be petty when he wants to be.

you: if you have something to say just say it lol jin: he told namjoon. namjoon told me you: oh nice, glad to know that u guys at the top like to talk about me going to dinner with my boss jin: he’s not your boss

You huff and roll over, ignoring the text. His pettiness can wait until tomorrow.

Jin ambushes you in the parking lot. It’s earlier than your usual 7:47 arrival- you had wanted to arrive earlier so that you wouldn’t run into Jin.

But you must be predictable because Jin knows you so well- he knows that you’d try to avoid him. He meets you at your car, in the same exact spot that you always park, with two cups of coffee.

“What,” You roll your eyes, slamming the front door of your car a little too forcefully.

“Good morning to you, too,” Jin says just as snarkily, “We need to talk.”

“About what,” You snap, “Talk to me when you’re done being petty.”

“I’m being petty?” Jin asks incredulously. You narrow your eyes at him, your temper beginning to flare under your skin. You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to relax. This is your best friend. You’re in the middle of the parking lot at work. There’s no reason to snap at him.

“What is it, Jin,” You ask, “What did I do to warrant an ambush at 7:30 AM before either of us have had coffee-”

“Mark,” Jin says bluntly, “Your date with Mark.”

“My what?” You screech at him, “It wasn’t- it wasn’t a date!”

“That’s not what he thinks,” Jin says swiftly, “He thinks it was a date. He told Namjoon. Who told me-”

“You boys all gossip like we’re in fuckin’ high school,” You hiss, “It wasn’t a date. It was just dinner. He’s my boss-”

“He’s not your boss,” Jin says harshly, “Why do you keep saying that?”

“He’s higher up than me! I consider him my boss!”

“He doesn’t see you as a subordinate! He sees you as an equal, and what the fuck- he wants to date you! How can you not tell-”

“So now it’s my fault? That I didn’t assume that an invite to dinner with my superior wasn’t a date? That I just considered it dinner? It’s my fault now?”

“He asked you to dinner at a restaurant that you had recommended to him,” Jin counters, eyes just as fiery as yours, “Seriously? That’s not a date to you? If you told me, I would’ve warned you-”

The heat in your eyes immediately melts away once realization hits you like a train. But still, you won’t let Jin have the last word-

“Since the three of you are besties now, you can tell him that I’m not fuckin’ interested,” You spit venomously at him, yank the cup of coffee from his hands and speed walk into the office building. You ignore his calls of your name in favor of feeling embarrassed heat flooding your face.

You feel like a fool.

Your sour mood lasts the entire morning. Not even the prospect of lunch entices you. Jin pings you around 11, asking if you wanted to have lunch with him. His words from earlier this morning ring in your head on replay.

You ignore him for now. Truthfully, you don’t have much of an appetite. You stay in your area of the floor, not wanting to run into anyone or speak with anyone longer than you had to.

You’re grateful that you don’t have to participate in the workshop with the Tokyo team today- Sana and Jungkook were taking the lead on that. You’re only meeting with Lisa and Minhyuk later in the day to go over a few documents with them. You sit in your cubicle and walk around whenever you feel like it, keeping yourself busy and your mind off of Mark.

Mark, who’s currently in the conference room on the other side of the building with Jungkook.

Jungkook cannot wait for this day to be over. He’d most definitely woken up on the wrong side of the bed, irritation brewing in his belly from the minute his alarm had gone off. There was nothing in particular that had gone wrong. It’s just one of those days.

He hopes this workshop and this day goes by relatively quickly. He’s itching to go to the gym today and spend at least two hours there. He needs it. He’s felt on edge for the last few days.

Especially, since he overheard your name, Mark’s name and dinner in the same sentence.

Even thinking about it puts a sad, sour taste in his mouth. But he pushes it to the side, only allowing a brief glare in Mark’s direction.

Not that he has any right to be irritated. Not really, anyway. You can do whatever you want. As you’ve always done.

Mark looks a little distressed and Namjoon is perfectly poised as they speak. Jungkook tunes the conversation out, and even Sana and Irene look mildly interested when your name comes out of Mark’s mouth.

Well, now he has to listen a little harder. Jungkook pretends to busy himself on his laptop, typing away to some of his work friends via chat.

“...Can’t tell if she had a good time or not. Should I text her? Go to her cubicle?” Comes Mark’s unsure voice. Normally, he’s so put together, confidence and charm oozing off of him. It’s interesting to hear him like this- insecure, because of you apparently.

Jungkook doesn’t blame you. He remembers feeling that way around you, but now that he knows you a little more… You make him feel good. You make him feel better.

Which is why his heart sinks a fraction. He doesn’t see Namjoon’s eyes glaze over to him. Namjoon sees the unbridled tension in Jungkook’s shoulders.

“This isn’t appropriate, Mark,” Namjoon says curtly. Jungkook’s ears perk up, his heart not feeling so heavy.

Mark looks at him in resignation and Namjoon claps his shoulder without another word. And so the meeting begins, Jungkook starts taking meeting minutes with you in the back corner of his mind.

The longer he thinks about it, as the pads of his fingers clack away on his keyboard, the more irritated he becomes. So you had gone to dinner with Mark. Had he misread you?

But Jungkook thinks about how you text him ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’ sometimes. He wonders if you text Mark that, too. Do you call Mark spontaneously when you’re driving, too? Does Mark send you music recommendations? Have you shared extra treats with him, too?

Jungkook puts himself in a sour mood, casting glares over in Mark’s direction. His tongue pokes his cheek, and all he can think about is you telling him to lighten up. But even the thought of you, the thought of you and Mark...something mean curls in his belly and festers.

And as the afternoon wears on, he becomes more and more upset. If you want to date Mark, that’s none of his business. Who is he to stop you?

Mark, who looks at you as if you’re something to be won. At least, that’s what Jungkook sees in Mark’s gaze. Whatever- Mark wasn’t the one who had seen you in that green dress at the holiday party. The memory of you in that green dress is seared in his mind, and it’s a memory that Mark will never have.

But still, he can’t help but feel irrationally irritated. He likes you so much- maybe he had put you on a pedestal for a long time before he truly knew you. But if anything, getting to know you has him descending even deeper into his feelings for you.

And you have no idea. How could you not know- can’t you tell that his hands get clammy around you, that he has difficulty maintaining meeting your eyes sometimes? That the mere sight of you, the sound of your voice is an instant serotonin boost for him?

But how would you know? He’s given no inclination of his affections for you. You don’t know that when your name lights up his phone, his heart races. You don’t know that when he gets a whiff of your musky perfume when he’s in the same room as you, he thinks he could drown in it. You don’t know that he’d take your gentle teasing with a smile, just so he could hear your voice.

Can’t you read in between the lines?

The end of the day can’t come fast enough. Jungkook is speeding out of the conference room, away from Mark, before Namjoon even properly dismisses them. Namjoon only sighs at Jungkook’s rushed departure.

He wears his heart on his sleeve.

Over the last few months, Namjoon has come to know Jungkook as more than just his direct report. They’ve established a quick rapport beyond the confines of work- Namjoon would say that they’re friends. Good friends, even. And Jungkook would say the same.

Which is why Namjoon can tell that Jungkook is upset, and why he’s upset. Maybe it’s crossing professional lines, but Namjoon likes to think of Jungkook as a close friend. Namjoon has had an inkling of Jungkook’s feelings since around the time of the first time the team went to Tokyo. He had mentioned it to Seokjin in passing, and Jin had done some investigating on his own.

And since Jin is your best friend, Namjoon doesn’t feel as guilty about being somewhat nosy. But really, he’s rooting for both of you. He’s just pushing you both along as best he knows how. He won’t meddle, he’ll only be in both of your corner’s until you both get your head out of your respective asses.

Even at the holiday party, Namjoon could tell. And Jin, too. Even if it was over two months ago at this point, the stolen looks and soft laughs have only increased between you and Jungkook. And Jin was no fool- he had seen you and Jungkook on New Year’s Eve. Even if you had hardly uttered more than five words to Jin about kissing Jungkook’s cheek, something he’s never seen you do with anyone publicly. He knows something is up with you.

He wonders if even you know what’s going on with you and Jungkook. Or even what you’re feeling.

Jin has caught you peering at Jungkook dreamily more than once inside and outside of work. It’s not typical of you, to look so openly lovestruck at the object of your unassuming affections. But Jin doesn’t think you even realize your feelings. He’s seen you smiling to yourself when your phone lights up. Jin has seen Jungkook’s name pop up on your phone more and more over the last few months.

And Jin is proud of you. He can recognize your little crush even faster than you can. He only wants to see you happy and for you to allow yourself to be happy.

You’ve come so far in such a short amount of time. He doesn’t think he’s seen you smile this much in the last five or six years. He hasn’t seen the glow that comes with happiness light up your face in so long, and it looks so good on you.

Jin only wants you to hold onto anything that makes you glow like that.

Jungkook has been in the office gym for nearly two hours and he hadn’t even realized it. Music blares in his ears through his headphones, he’s drenched and dripping in sweat and his muscles are nearly screeching with exhaustion.

But he pays it no mind. He just keeps going- anything to keep the thought of you, dolled up for Mark- on a date with Mark- holding Mark’s hand- kissing Mark, out of his mind.

It works for a moment. But then the image of you smiling at Mark with hearts in your eyes, pressing your lips to his… It’s too much for him to handle.

Maybe he was a fool to think that you might be remotely interested in him. Maybe he was a fool to think that a new year’s eve kiss on the cheek meant anything to you, or that your odd flirtations were for him only, or that the lingering gazes that you both held were special. Jungkook wishes he had taken the plunge then itself- maybe if he had been a little selfish and just kissed you and confessed to you his feelings…

It stings. It stings more than it should. Jungkook has only just crossed into friendship with you- who was he to think that you were attracted to him? But he can’t help it. Jungkook wants you, plain and simple. He wants you so bad, he wants you to be his so bad, that it aches.

He’d treat you so well.

Usually, a good gym session is all he needs to get rid of this type of pent up energy. But today, the image of you with Mark is seared in his mind and he can’t get rid of it despite his best efforts.

So he leaves the gym after racking up the weights and goes home, where he’s certain you’ll still remain lingering in his mind.

Seokjin has been trying to reach out to you for the last few days. His texts and phone calls to you go unanswered for the most part, but you do at least indicate that you’re alive. You tell him that you just need time.

Because really, you can’t believe that you hadn’t realized that Mark was asking you on a date. You can’t believe you didn’t recognize the signs and you can’t believe you thought it was just dinner with a colleague.

Mark and the team are still in Seoul, much to the addition of your anxiety. You keep him at arm’s length, not allowing him to take an inch from you. You limit your smiles, the eye contact… Anything that apparently could have fooled him into thinking that you were interested in him.

Your head hurts. You feel incredibly stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. But how could you know? It’s not like anyone routinely shows you interest in that way. Or maybe you just never realized, or thought about it. You shouldn’t blame yourself for genuinely not knowing, you know that. But you can’t help but feel guilty about potentially hurting Mark. And the people around you.

Namely, Jungkook. Jungkook who won’t look at you the way he usually does, with warmth and stars in his doe eyes. His eyes are cold when he meets your gaze and you feel like shrinking into the floor. You’re nervous to text him, feeling odd and out of place. You hate to wonder your place in someone’s life, and you hate that you’re spiraling like this. So you just don’t, because that’s your default and it hurts less.

You miss him. You find yourself remembering how his cheeks felt against your lips, how warm he felt when you had fallen asleep on him on the airplane, even when he had held onto you and pressed his forehead to yours at the bar. It feels like so long ago at this point. But you can’t recall a time you’d ever felt so intrinsically warm with someone in that way.

It’s different with Jin- the warmth you feel around Jin is very different to how you feel around Jungkook. It confuses you.

The only thing you’re sure of is that you’re tired and you miss him. It seems like the only thing you’re good at is hurting people and pushing them away. Your confusion feels so silly. Like you’re making things complicated when they shouldn’t be.

It all feels incredibly silly to you. You scoff at yourself.

So you decide on the last day that the Tokyo team is meant to be in Seoul, that you’d be working from home. You told Namjoon that you weren’t feeling great (which is true) and had come down with a fever and chills (not true, but Namjoon doesn’t need to know that). You also let your boss know that you’d be working from home, and he sends you an email of acknowledgement. To which you roll your eyes to.

Needless to say, you’re thankful that you have an appointment with your therapist scheduled for that afternoon.

After your appointment, you’re feeling much more settled and a little better. Your head doesn’t feel like it’s garbled, and your thoughts begin to make sense. It’s what you love about Dr. Lee- she’s your compass and helps you melt things down so that they make sense to you.

You make yourself a cup of tea for you and Grandma before logging back into work. Stretching your muscles and your neck, you stand outside in your small backyard with your phone in your hands.

You let out a sigh, your thumb instantly scrolling to your text message thread with Jin:

you: hi

And of course, he replies in seconds. Because you know he’s waiting for you to come to him.

jin: hey there you: want to come over? For dinner? I’ll get wine for us jin: be there at 6 you: okay, see you then

And after a moment of thought-

you: 💗💗 jin: <33

Another sigh escapes your lips, and you head back inside to have your tea and finish up a few things at work.

Jin is seated at your dining table at 6:10 PM, and Grandma gets the sense that you both have things to discuss. You and Jin have dinner with her and you’re watching him quietly. You watch him fill in the gaps of conversation, the gaps that you’re feeling a little nervous to fill.

Grandma excuses herself about an hour later to watch television in her bedroom and you’re left alone with Jin.

It’s just Jin. He’s your best friend, and your nerves begin to fizzle out.

“Want to sit on the couch with me?” You ask, gesturing behind you. He nods and helps you clear the table and takes both of your glasses of wine to place on the coffee table.

You sit on the couch facing him with your legs tucked under you and he does the same.

“I’m sorry I freaked out and yelled at you in the parking lot. And avoided you ever since,” You murmur, meeting his eyes despite the heat that floods your cheeks.

Jin sighs and takes your hand in his and squeezes. “And I’m sorry I ambushed you. And didn’t give you any context.”

“I just…” You trail off, huffing to gather your thoughts, “Hate the idea that you guys all just… knew. Because Mark said something about it. A-and I didn’t even realize his intentions, like, what does that even make me? What does that mean about me that I can’t even realize when a guy is asking me out on a date?”

This time you do avert your eyes, embarrassment rushing through you.

“It’s not your fault,” Jin sighs again, “You don’t know what you don’t know. He should’ve been clear with his intentions from the beginning. He should know better than to ask you out at work, of all places.”

“He texts me sometimes, but I never thought anything of it. I mean, even when we were in Tokyo! Looking back, I guess… Maybe the signs were there. But I didn’t…”

“I know,” Jin says, “It’s okay.”

“Maybe I’ve been out of the dating pool too long,” You joke, trying to lighten the mood, “Got dusty cobwebs and all that, I’m basically undateable at this point-”

“That’s not true at all,” Jin says seriously, thoughts flitting to Jungkook for a minute, “I think you just...need someone a little more straightforward. Are you into Mark?”

“I told you I wasn’t. I mean sure, he’s cute, I guess. But no, I don’t really want to get to know him like that.”

“Then that’s the end of it,” Jin shrugs, “It’s literally that simple. Don’t overthink it.”

“Okay.”

Another beat of silence. You wring your hands together in your lap, biting your lip. Jin waits for you to speak. He’s very accustomed to your habits when you’re gathering your thoughts.

“Is it bad? That I don’t want to know him like that?” You ask unsurely, “I mean, I know it’s not bad- but, like, what if-”

“If you’re not feeling it, you’re not feeling it,” Jin says simply, “Like I said, don’t overthink it.”

“How did you know you were feeling it? With Yuna?” You ask curiously, “Like, I mean, what if I’m just being stubborn for the sake of being stubborn?”

Jin says your name softly. “Everyone’s different. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you interested in anyone… But with Yuna, it didn’t take that long. I was thinking about her at the randomest times.

“Like… what’s her coffee order? What’s she eating for lunch? Would she like what I’m having for lunch? Is she okay? Is she happy? And then the more I got to know her… It was like, someday she’s gonna be the woman I’m gonna go to bed with and wake up with. I just know it.”

“Oh, Jinnie,” You sniff, and pull him towards you for a hug, “I’m happy. I’m so happy that you’re happy.”

Jin holds you for a few moments, rubbing your back and waiting for your breaths to even out.

“I’m gonna ask you something, and you might not like it,” Jin says bluntly, but softly.

“Whenever you say things like that, it makes my stomach ache.”

“Jungkook. You like him?”

“Like as a person? Of course I do. He’s nice, he’s sweet, smart, funny, sensitive… We’re friends, did you know that?” You nudge his shoulder with your elbow playfully, “He’s pretty great. You know, I was really mean to him in the beginning when he first joined. And for what? He’s so...he’s so wonderfully him and it’s genuinely nice to be around him. I feel good, I feel great when I’m with him. Like… I want to be better when- what? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jin’s eyes are warm, his lips pulled into a knowing smile. You raise a confused eyebrow at him.

“I knew it,” Jin says, “I fuckin’ knew it. I see the way you look at him, and the way he looks at you. You both think you’re so slick-”

“Wait. Knew… what?” You ask, trailing off. Because the pieces are suddenly coming together as if they had always been there. They just needed a little push in the right direction. All of a sudden, your heart feels like it’s about to slam straight out of your chest. It hits you like a freight train with a bolt of lightning surging down your spine. You gasp, your lips parted and stare at Seokjin for a long few seconds. Jin sees an epiphany bloom in your eyes, and he already knows what it is.

You like Jungkook.

“Say it,” Jin says in a hushed whisper, “Say it, I know you want to.”

“Oh my god, you’re so dramatic. Edward Cullen wannabe,” You mutter, but your face is heated. “Don’t make me say it,” You whine.

He only looks at you with a smug grin on his stupid face. Because you have a giant crush on Jeon Jungkook, and the realization hits you faster and harder than possibly anything else in your near 30 years of life has ever hit you before.

“Jin, what the hell,” You complain but you’re smiling, “I like him. I think I really like him.”

“Finally,” Jin exhales, “You’ve been so happy since you’ve gotten closer to him. I’m happy that you’re happy. And that he makes you happy. Might have to rough him up a little bit if he didn’t.”

You snort, roll your eyes, and mumble for him to shut up.

“I can’t remember the last time… I ever liked someone,” You say in a hushed voice.

“Do you like like him,” Jin teases and you swat his shoulder.

“I’m serious, Jin,” You say, “I think I’ve liked him for a while. And it took… till now to understand it. Isn’t that something?”

“It is something,” Jin nods, “You think he’s hot? He’s sexy? You must be so wound up- working so closely with him but not-”

You throw a pillow at him and laugh loudly. “Oh my god, shut up. He’s so fuckin’ hot, sometimes I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Jin only smiles at you, teasing you some more. You feel light once the realization and confession is out in the open, as if you’re floating on air.

It feels good.

Jungkook isn’t in the office today, and he wasn’t in the office the day before either. He has an out of office automated message set up, and he’s been offline for forty-two hours.

Weird. The last time he was out of the office, he had let you know beforehand. Maybe he’s sick?

But your text to him had gone unanswered. His read receipts are typically on, but your text to him just says ‘delivered’. You give him a few hours, pushing him out of your mind for a few hours to finish up some work.

You could ask Namjoon. Or even Jin. But you want to reach out to Jungkook on your own. Once you get into your car after work, your thumb hovers over his contact name. With a rush of tender courage, you call him.

Your stomach flips. The line rings and rings… until you hear a groggy voice on the other end.

“Hello?” Jungkook says hoarsely. He sounds tired and stuffy, like his face is pressed into a pillow. His eyes are barely open, barely registering that it’s you calling him.

It’s only when you softly call his voice that things become a little clearer to him. He slowly sits up in bed, wincing at the movement. He’s a sweaty, sticky mess but it looks like his fever has passed as he slept.

And now he’s hungry.

“Hey, Jungkook,” You murmur, scratching your chin a little nervously, “You’ve been gone so I was just… making sure you were okay.”

You were making sure he was okay? Is he hearing that correctly? His heart lurches and sings. He can barely catch a breath.

“Just sick,” Jungkook groans raspily, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes, “Been miserable the last few days.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” You say, pulling a soft laugh from him, “Glad you’re okay for the most part, JK. Feel better soon.”

“You miss me or somethin’,” Jungkook says without thinking twice. His voice is congested but even you can hear the sweet note of his flirting in its undercurrent.

“‘Course I do. This place isn’t the same without my Bambi,” You say easily. Jungkook hears the smile in your voice.

That’s new. Your Bambi. Jungkook won’t deny that in his post-fever addled brain, it’s the sweetest thing he’s heard. Even if he almost always playfully chastises you for calling him Bambi, he won’t this time.

Before you can abandon your courage, you force yourself to ask- “Since you’re sick… Grandma makes a great galbitang and I can make you some baesuk. I mean- if- I don’t want to- God, I don’t want to overstep. I just thought-”

“Hey,” Jungkook cuts across you, his voice calm and steady as ever despite the phlegm in his chest, “It’s just me. Take your time.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and force yourself to take a breath, despite the hammering in your chest. “I want to bring galbitang and make baesuk for you because you’re sick and I miss you. Is that okay or is that too much?”

Straightforward. You like straightforward. You’ve never been to his apartment building (though he’s told you where he lives) and you feel like you’ve jumped about five steps. But it feels right. It’s him, so it feels right.

“You don’t have to go out of your way for me,” Jungkook protests weakly before coughing for about fifteen seconds.

“Kook, you sound like shit. I want to,” You murmur, “And seeing you is an extra bonus.”

“You’re obsessed with me.”

It appears that Jungkook is brave when he’s sick.

“No, I just like you,” You shrug. He can do what he wants with that information. You miss the sharp exhale of his breath. “I can come over… around six-thirty or seven?” Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook mumbles, “Drive safe. See you soon, sweetheart.”

The pet name slips out without him even realizing it and sends your heart into an immediate frenzy. “Uh, b-bye, Jungkook. See you soon.” You stammer and hang up, unable to stop yourself from screeching alone in your car.

You immediately call Jin to shout and screech (maybe cry a little, because you’re overwhelmed) to him about this recent development.

Jungkook can barely believe that you are in his apartment, much less, pouring soup into a bowl for him. He feels almost meek- do you like his living space? He can’t bring himself to expend energy on wondering what your thoughts are.

But he hopes you like where he lives. And he hopes this isn’t the only time you’re here.

“I’ll give you some baesuk after you eat,” You murmur, sitting next to him. Your thighs touch his, and he wants to tell you to sit away from him so that you don’t get sick. But he won’t deny himself of the soft heat of your legs next to his.

“Thank you,” Jungkook rasps, “You really didn’t have to…”

“I know. I wanted to,” You murmur with a shrug and a small smile. You both sit in silence, the noise from his television in the center of his living room blending in as background noise. You finally take a look around, looking at the pictures on the wall and the accents in the living room that are so very Jungkook. You don’t know Taehyung very well, but you see accents of him, too- in the small pieces of art placed tastefully in specific areas of what you can see in the apartment.

“I like your place. It’s very you,” You say off-handedly, meeting his eyes. His cheeks are filled with soup and he’s mid chew, dark eyes wide.

“Oh. Thanks,” Jungkook says after chewing fully.

He tries to tell you about where both him and Taehyung got inspiration for the different things that they decided to put in their apartment, but he’s overcome by a bout of coughing. He coughs into his elbow (something you immediately notice) and you don’t hesitate to move closer to him and rub his back soothingly.

Even if he’s wearing a thick, grey hoodie, he can feel the heat of your touch through the layers. You don’t move your hand once his coughing subsides, and for that he’s grateful.

“Take it easy, Jungkook,” You murmur. Part of you, a very small but loud part of you, wants to wrap yourself around him and press your body heat into his. He shivers a little, and that’s all the persuasion you need to wrap your arm around his and press yourself into his side. Jungkook lets out another shaky exhale before relaxing with your touch, all while you rub his upper arm.

“You’re freezing,” You say softly, “Are you feeling better?”

“‘M feeling better with you, sweetheart,” Jungkook murmurs, casting his eyes to yours. His browns are tired, fatigue swirling in them. But still, he looks at you in wonder. As he always does.

Your face feels warm, but still you leave your arm looped with his.

“You’re gonna get sick,” Jungkook groans, leaning back with his eyes closed.

“‘M not,” You shrug, “Besides, I have Grandma’s secret galbitang even if I do.”

Jungkook only hums, unable to manage anything more than that.

“Did you eat today?”

Jungkook gives you a noncommittal grunt and you shake your head at him. “Wanted to sleep. Fever broke when you called me.”

And if an image of Jungkook’s sweaty torso flashes in your head, then that’s nobody’s business but your own. You nudge his shoulder with your hand, whispering for him to drink the baesuk you made for him.

“That’s good,” You say absently.

“Tell me about your day,” Jungkook says, a soft demand. He presses his lips to the glass of baesuk and drinks generously.

You rattle off the events of the day- it was rather uneventful for the most part. Just meetings, and doing some work in between. You tell him you missed him at lunch with Namjoon, Sana and Jin. And how the gym felt empty without him.

Once Jungkook finishes the drink, he promptly drops his head in your lap. A gasp of surprise escapes your lips, but you can’t help the smile of fondness from spreading. His hair looks so fluffy, a little messy… Part of you wants to rub his scalp for him and soothe him. Would he like it? People like that right? You always like when Grandma did that for you.

So you listen to that part of you and tentatively press your fingertips into his hair, combing his hair lightly with your fingers. And then rubbing his scalp gently. He groans into your thigh in contentment, nearly purring.

Your heart is thundering away in your chest at the new feeling of his head in your lap- the intimacy of such an action sets you on edge. But you embrace it. You can’t think of another time when someone has trusted you so implicitly like this.

You like him like this. You like him like anything.

tags: @koo-zy

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook fluff #bts x reader

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justasimptm · 3 years

Text

The Bride C 18

When mother asks me how it went I lie and tell her it was fine, he just needed a little bit of blood. I tell her the reason it took so long was because he had asked me to help him with the Cadou. I don’t mention that he tried to kill me, that Karl showed up and saved me. I don’t tell her that I drank from him, or that part of me is aching to go back and see him again. My story satisfies her despite its gaps and she lets me go, tells me she’s proud of me and dismisses me to go do whatever I want. I find myself wandering down to my old studio. The room had been kept up with, which is nice, the maids typically finding moments of peace whilst airing it out and checking on the supplies. My sisters aren’t allowed in here.

This studio was a gift from my mother when I was very young, she swears up and down that I’ve always had a talent for painting. Once she even took one of them on one of her trips, said it sold for enough to bring me back new paints. I always thought she said that to try to make me feel better, to get me out of bed. The room seems to be holding its breath, waiting to see if I’m going to sit in it or if I’m just going to leave. I quietly make my way over to the desk, my sketch book sitting on top of it. I run my fingers over the cover, feeling the coarse material catch on the creases of my skin.

Without much thought I reach forward, grabbing one of the pencils from the top of the desk, scooping the sketch book and moving towards the small couch by the window to sit. Art is one of those things I can just do without having to think too much, it lets me zone out and relax and think, while also keeping myself busy so I don’t get antsy. It takes a minute before the pencil starts flowing across the page, but once it does I quickly lose myself in my thoughts.

I start by reminiscing on my youth. When I was very young my father left my mother, she sat alone in his office for weeks, barely eating, she had the servants take care of me. Now I realize she was grieving, but then it felt like she left me. That was really the last time she really was my mother. She came out of that room a different woman. Colder, calmer, like the eye of a storm. She had picked herself up and rebuilt herself into another person. Within weeks she had redone the entire castle, removed all traces of the man that lived there, treating him like nothing more than a random person who had stopped in. The only thing that was left was the few pictures and trinkets I had managed to smuggle out of her path and hid under my bed.

The hurt he left stayed though, and boy did she project it. Lashed out against the servants, getting rid of the men we had hired, replaced it with an all female staff. She grew distant from me for a few years, until I hit puberty. At that point I started growing out of his features and she could finally look at me without seeing his face looking back at her. There were about two years that were good, before they went right back to bad. I was 15 when I started getting sick. It took months before we could figure out what was wrong. A doctor finally did some tests, ruling that I had inherited a rare blood disorder from my mothers side.

My mother had it too, they realized, but it was affecting her far slower. In my case it had progressed in the drop of a hat. It was like my veins were filled with sandpaper. My blood wasn’t flowing right, almost like it was drying out. The doctors said if they couldn’t find a cure I wouldn’t make it past 19.

She spent the next three years scrambling, trying to find a cure for me, for herself. Miracle cure after miracle cure, everything was failing, and by the time I turned 18 I gave up. But 18 turned into 19, and surprising everyone I kept living. Every movement felt like a wildfire, any food felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. Then 19 turned into 20, and that’s when everything changed. When my mother got back from trying to save us again she had become a monster, and in turn forced me into the same life.

It took me several months before I decided to try accepting what she did. By then she had created the others, my siblings. When I first saw them I wanted to throw up, but there was nothing in my body to reject. They had been so grateful, so happy of the new life they were given, and when they realized I wasn’t they were furious. They used to poke at me until I would snap.

Once I started feeding and getting stronger they didn’t change their tunes, still rude and immature, only acting polite in front of mother. When we met the others who were more like my mother, I was surprised. Miranda had welcomed them into her ‘family’ just as she accepted us, and my mother was furious.

I still remember when I first met Heisenberg. He had walked into the house like he owned it, brushed by me like nothing. He didn’t talk for a while at that meeting, only sprinkling in replies once in a while. When Mother Miranda had introduced us all, his eyes didn’t move from the spot they were fixed on the entire time. After the meeting was over, he essentially fled. Mother went on a rant for hours about how disgraceful his behavior was, how clearly he didn’t want or deserve the gift he was given. After she said it I realized that was likely part of his withdrawn behavior, and for a while I sympathized, until he became just like the others.

From that point on my entire perception of him shifted. He wasn’t someone I could understand, he was someone who was on the other side of a line I didn’t want to cross. Until now. Now he’s someone I’m somehow getting close to. He’s there when I need help, he’s been kind and funny and has actually listened to me. Part of me is nervous because what if he tells my mother what I said, but that part is silenced quickly, because I know for a fact he hates her. He might not say it, but it’s obvious in how he behaves around her.

Maybe we aren’t as far apart as I first thought.

@foggyturtleknightangel @beingviolentlyhappy @inesalexandra1995 @loveboldlywingedangel130 @happygalaxymilkshake @dreamslittlebitch

#karl heisenberg #re8 karl heisenberg #Karl Heisenberg x reader #lady dimitrescu #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #resident evil #resident evil 8 village

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janekfan · 3 years

Text

Hostile

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30583040

Jon always needed a strong hand.

Ever since he was small and wandering off without his grandmother’s permission only to be escorted back by disgruntled police.

Elias just wanted him to be the best Archivist he could be.

It didn’t stop the sting. Just reinforced how much he had to learn and how awful he was at this job. He was just being...sensitive, right? The others were fine. They didn’t seem to have any issues, certainly not like him. Meanwhile, it seemed no matter what Jon did, Elias browbeat him. Always gently, always politely, until Jon understood how he’d gone wrong and left in a state of distressing confusion. His employer made it so clear that Jon often felt foolish coming away from his office. If he’d just been smarter he would have figured it out on his own without needing his supervisor to explain it to him in terms he could understand.

He passed Tim and Elias chatting amiably in the hall, burying his nose in the stack of papers he was carrying to make himself as small as possible before shuffling past them. They didn’t seem to notice or if they did, made no move to acknowledge him and the last thing he heard when he rounded the corner was Elias chuckling at one of Tim’s bad jokes, the same one he used to tell Jon at least once a month up in Research. It was inane. Nothing to well, to write home about. Certainly nothing that should have piqued Elias’ interest.

Though, Jon supposed, he didn’t know anything about either of them did he?

“Martin.” Cultured, the smooth voice drifted through the office door, worming its way into Jon’s ear and straight into his already hammering heart. He was ashamed that he couldn’t stop himself from creeping to the door and listening closer. “This is fine work. How long have you been working here?”

“Oh! Uh! Um!” Jon rolled his eyes at the stammering, pushing down a spike of what was definitely not jealousy. Elias laughed, light and easy.

“No need to be so anxious. You’ve been an asset to this department. A good fit.”

“Ah! Th’thank you, Elias. Sir! I mean, I mean sir.”

The man’s amusement was so sincere. Jon must’ve been missing something when it came to himself.

“Ms. James, a word if you please.”

“Of course, sir. How can I help?” Jon pressed his back against the wall, the chill of the basement cement seeping into his button down and sending him shuddering.

“I wanted to thank you for your dedication. I realize things have been fraught, for lack of a better term, since the promotion.”

“I trust in the interview process.”

“I’m sure you do.” Jon held his breath. “And I appreciate your willingness to support this endeavor as it continues to grow. Especially where our new Archivist is concerned.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you again, Ms. James.” Heavier footsteps retreated and Sasha’s headed in his direction. Jon nearly ran from her impending approach, taking refuge again in his office with the thought that it should belong to her echoing in empty space between his ears.

“Jonathan.” He tried not to fidget under Elias’ intense scrutiny.

“Yes, Elias?”

“I received a call from the library.”

“I, I assisted with a difficult case a few months ago.”

“I can’t imagine why, but they are asking for your help again.” It was a cutting remark and Jon fought against the flooding mess of emotions. “They know you’re now our Institution’s newly minted Archivist.”

Oh.

OH. Of course! His impatience was mixing him all up and getting him up in arms before Elias finished speaking.

“Do you know what it’s regarding?”

“I can’t recall though you are making fewer mistakes over time. I do think your efforts would be better focused on your work in the archives, don’t you think? Jonathan?”

“Ah, w’well. Yes. If that is what you think I should do.” He could feel his face heating up, no doubt blazing red with an embarrassing blush.

“I didn’t ask for your thoughts only for you to leave it up to me. You need to be decisive, Jonathan.”

“Yes, th’that is. Yes. I will be.”

“And?” Lord was he ever bungling this.

“I will turn down their invitation.” Elias was no longer looking at him but at his desktop screen with a bored expression.

“Don’t worry yourself. I’ll take care of it for you.”

“Th’thank you, sir.”

“No need to have you tangled up in old efforts.”

“Yes, of course.” Jon shifted from foot to foot desperately trying to keep his hands still, to be professional until Elias glanced back at him in confusion.

“You can go, Jonathan. I certainly don’t want to keep you from your duties.”

It was rare that Jon left his office since taking, stealing, the position of Archivist and the uncomfortable silence that settled over the breakroom upon his arrival was damning.

“Need something, boss?” Tim raised an eyebrow, hiding a frown behind his cup. Jon felt whatever bravery he’d scraped up in the past several hours disappear.

“I, um. I just, Elias?”

“What about him?” Sasha folded her hands, prim and polite as ever since the announcement was made.

“Well, you. You’ve known m’me a while, years really, and. And I think, does, does he--?”

“Spit it out, man.” He flinched at Tim’s bored tone. Tired of him. He shouldn’t have come here.

“He, the way he speaks with me?” Lord, this sounds ridiculous. He was ridiculous, just a sensitive mess. He always did this, turned molehills into mountains. Read into situations and only came out the other side wrong.

“Elias isn’t like that, weird maybe.” Tim sounded so sure, flippant and nonchalant. “He’s been nothing but supportive since our transfer. You’re misinterpreting him or something. You do that.” Jon’s stomach dropped, tears welling up in his eyes as everything he thought about himself was confirmed.

“No, it. It feels like more than that. It. Conversion with him doesn’t. It doesn’t feel right.”

“What, Jon? He’s being mean? Rough having a couple of new responsibilities?” Tim scoffed. “You got the job over someone more qualified, over someone who works harder than anyone--”

“Tim--” He held up his hand.

“Sash, he needs to hear this. Someone needs to tell him the truth.”

“The, the truth?”

Yeah, Jon. The truth. She deserves so much better than this and now her choices are to settle or flat out leave and it’s your fault. All because you couldn’t resist the urge to interview behind her back!”

“That’s not what happened!” Even Jon could hear his whinging, voice high and desperate for one of them to believe him.

“Not from where we’re standing, mate.” Tim crossed his arms and sat back in his chair and when Jon looked to Sasha she merely shrugged. Martin just looked helpless, staring into his tea and avoiding eye contact all together.

“I, I. That’s not.” Repeating himself wouldn’t do anything to save him and he fought against the tears gathering on his lashes. “I’m s’sorry.”

“Anything else?”

No. There was nothing else.

Jon kept to himself, kept his head down, arriving before the rest of them and leaving long after they did. He didn’t want to see them. He’d made a right fool of himself enough for now, unsure if his fragile self esteem could withstand another blow. Really, he hadn’t meant for any of this to happen and there was no way to explain how Elias had maneuvered him so skillfully into this position. Was he trying to drive a wedge between them? Knowing Jon would invite his two closest friends to accompany him? A knock on the door made him jump, reminding him for a moment of a very different and more sinister one from his childhood.

“Jon?” Martin, no doubt with another overture of friendship he was loath to accept. It was easier to remain alone rather than face the hurt of another rejection so soon.

“What do you need?” Caught off guard by his sore throat, he coughed roughly into his elbow, accepting the tea to soothe it with a nod of thanks.

“That doesn’t sound good.” It wasn’t. Now that he wasn’t burying himself shoulders deep in work and self flagellation he was aware of aching muscles and oppressive fatigue, a throbbing at the base of his skull that made him stomach sick.

“It’s nothing. I neglected to drink any water today.” It was true, he realized and Martin didn’t look convinced but Jon didn’t want to go into how miserable he’d been feeling lately. Tired and wrung out trying to avoid them all and figure this out and not have a melt down all at the same time.

“You should take better care of yourself.” Gentle and kind and Jon bristled with it, flustered with the concern.

“I’ll take that under advisement.” He turned away, staring at the messy surface of his blotter to avoid anymore interaction. “I have work to do.” Martin shifted, an expression Jon couldn’t parse on his face when he glanced up at the silence. “So…?”

“Oh! Yes, I’ll be going then.” Another awkward beat passed between the two of them.

“Thank you, Martin.”

Despite feeling particularly woozy it had been a good day.

Elias nodded to him when they passed each other on the way to lunch.

He pointed out a particularly competent piece of research.

Praised how well he was handling the job lately.

It was a shame it was at the cost of his sanity. Jon was falling apart at his poorly sewn seams, every moment another snapped suture and he was pinning himself back together with clothes pegs in a windstorm. Even he knew this wasn’t sustainable. He was going to burn out like a match overextending himself like this. But avoiding his assistants meant he wasn’t able to ask them for help. He’d made his bed. He just wished he could lay in it.

Maybe Elias would approve of Jon taking the rest of the day. He’d stayed late all week. Caught up with work and even plowed ahead a little bit. So when Jon caught him in the hall he tentatively asked.

"Y'you see, I. I've been a bit under the weather and I thought since I'm ahead--"

“Jonathan,” the disappointment in the way he said his name struck Jon like a bolt of lightning and he couldn’t stop the way his face fell. “You’ve barely begun.” Oh lord, he’d read this wrong. So very wrong. “Do you truly think it’s appropriate to ask for time off so early in your tenure?”

"No, of course not. I just meant, I just thought--"

"I find that difficult to believe.” He didn’t bother hiding his contempt. “If there's nothing else?" Jon shook his head, not trusting himself to speak lest he burst into hysterics right here. Elias left him where he stood and Jon took a few moments to compose himself before turning back the way he came only to nearly run into Martin.

"I didn't mean to listen!" He held up his hands in supplication or surrender. "I swear I didn't, Jon."

"S'fine." There wasn't enough left of him to care and when he made to step around the other man found himself stopped by a careful touch at his bicep.

“Wait, um. Please. Does he, does he always speak to you that way?” Jon eyed Martin warily. He was the only one of his assistants he didn’t really know. Why would he care?

“Only when I’ve made a mistake.” When I deserve it. When I’ve failed to figure out what he wants from me and done something wrong.

“It didn’t seem very professional.” Shame ran red-hot through his veins--what did he know?

“I assure you, I was. I was out of line.” Jon didn’t want to be here having this conversation with Martin of all people. He wanted to retreat to the relative safety of his office where he could sit in the dark and continue underperforming at his job.

“Jon, you’re not well.” Martin sounded upset with him and somehow it hurt worse than it did with Elias. At least Elias knew him. Martin by all accounts was a stranger. “You should be at home.”

“No, no, no, you don’t understand.” Jon tore his trembling hands through already bedraggled and greasy hair. He was disgusting. Unprofessional. Sweating through his clothes and unable to focus long enough to make it through even one statement.

"What don't I understand?" Jon's expression turned hard.

"Forgive me if I don't wish to count the ways in which I've failed at my job for you."

"Jon I--"

"Leave it, Martin." And he stalked off in none to straight a line, leaving Martin to gawk at his back.

Jon collapsed against his desk, the old pine creaking under even his small weight, before clawing his way across it to the chair and barely grabbing the bin in time to be sick. With nothing to lose he laid over it, stomach convulsing painfully as he fought to win back tentative control and only putting it back when his own panting became too loud in his head. Jon allowed himself a cry, forehead pillowed on folded arms where he slumped, muffling the pathetic sounds that slipped past him with his teeth; biting his wrist where his cuff would keep the mark hidden.

Tim's unceremonious arrival surprised him and Jon yelped, reflexively running a sleeve over his face to erase the evidence even though he knew it wouldn’t make much difference.

"Martin told us."

"Tol'tol'you what?" Real fear rooted him where he sat, raising the hairs on his arms and sending a thrill up his spine. What did they know? What had he said? Did he tell them about Elias reprimanding him? Proof of his incompetence? Were they here to yell at him again?

"How Elias has been treating you."

"Jon. You do realize it's him being unprofessional."

“You can’t let him treat you that way.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“We would have helped you.”

Like a volley of canon fire each fast phrase pounded against his crumbling defenses and left him reeling with contradicting information.

“You should have said something earlier.” He tried. He just hadn’t tried hard enough and he didn’t know what made the words tumble out of his mouth now but he couldn’t stop himself from blurting:

“I tried!” And he'd known better than to try again and risk another telling off. He was shaking and sick. He didn’t want to be here anymore, wanted to go home. “But I d’did this to myself, didn’t I? That's why you l'let me hear the t't'ruth.”

“No, I was. No, Jon--” He plowed on, overwrought and interrupting Tim, words spilling out of him too fast to be taken back.

“I thought we. W’we were friends. I thought I could come to you when th’things aren’t g’good. Like before, like in research.” Jon scrubbed at his face. “But you just. You hate me. And I know it's my fault. I know I'm not, not fit for this position and I know it's ungrateful of me but I don't want to be here. I’m so tired. I don’t. I don’t feel well. And I’m not allowed to leave.”

“What do you mean?” Tim was a hell of a lot closer than he had been, kneeling on the floor and holding Jon's hands to keep him from scratching himself to ribbons.

“I’ve been telling you.” It came out as a pitiful sob, squeaking past a throat tight from holding back the sea.

“Okay, okay. Just tell us again.” Jon closed aching eyes, hot tears falling over hot cheeks, breath panting and strained in his twisted up chest all tied up and tangled with twine.

“I can’t s’skive off. Elias said.” Like a touchstone a pair of soft hands guided him back in the chair.

“He’s burning up.”

“Doesn’matter.”

“Of course it matters, Jon.” Sasha’s voice came from far away, through a tunnel, wending its way to his stopped up ears through syrup. His next thought slipped away, dissolving in the heat swallowing him up from top to toes. Breathing became harder, impossible, lungs full of caking cement smothering choking snuffing him out like a candle flame.

“Jon?”

“Jon!”

Devoured and spit out again, again again

writhing,

drifting on an outgoing tide of misery and affliction,

waves of agony break over him and suck him under and roll him along the mud bottom of a polluted river and every gasp he snatches at the surface is less and less and less

Clicking, beeping, the chirping of a million birds in a thousand trees and each one wants his attention tick tick ticking away like the blood red hand of a watch and awareness trickles in like hot black tar against the surface of his eyelids.

Fluorescent lights carve their way in between heavy lashes and Jon recognizes the broken sound of denial as his own. A noise, a voice? in the room and the blinding glow receded enough to think about figuring out where he was. He coughed, mouth a desert, and welcomed a spoonful of ice chips blissful and cool against the heat seeping through his veins, his arteries, his skin.

“Jon?” He recognized the sound, the person, the thumb tracing circles over the back of his hand. “Hey, there he is. Welcome back, bud.”

“T’Tim…waz…?” Fairy floss crowded out any thoughts and Jon spent the next seconds trying to come up with more words and failing.

“Do you remember what happened?” Martin took up space next, then Sasha, crowded around him and no, he didn’t. Was barely able to catalogue his body; the deep seated ache, a prickly itch in the corner of his elbow.

“Hos’ital?” Tim nodded, offering up another spoonful and Jon let them melt over his tongue. Lord, he was tired, prying open eyes he didn’t remember closing.

“S’okay, buddy.” He was being so kind. Like he used to be in Research and the last thing he felt before it all faded away were twin sweeps of familiar fingers wiping away tears.

All three assistants were still there the next time he woke though Jon had no idea of how much time had passed. He wasn’t as confused, actually aware of his surroundings and he scratched absentmindedly at the IV taped to his skin. The thin gown didn’t have sleeves long enough to hide the lines left behind by his nails. He didn’t remember clawing himself up like that.

“How do you feel?” Martin looked relieved, tired.

“Uh. Fine, fine.” He plucked at the stiff blanket, avoiding their eyes. “What. I’m s’sorry. I can’t seem to--what happened?”

“You’ve been sick, Jon.” Tim plunked himself down in a terrible plastic chair. “Bad stomach flu, dehydration. You’ve been here for days.” There was a hard edge to his voice and Jon suppressed a flinch.

“S’sorry.” Sasha sat down at his other side, taking up a hand, and Martin offered him a smile.

“Jon, please don’t be.” She looked tired too, drawn and pale. “Tim and I are the ones apologizing.” Jon shook his head, staring at his lap and withdrawing his hand to worry at his fingers.

“I shouldn’t have--”

“What?” Tim cut him off. “Asked for help?” Jon nodded, earnest, glad they were all on the same page.

“Yes! You’re understandably angry with me. I didn’t respect that.”

“Can you hear how ridiculous you sound?” Tim wasn’t shouting but it was a close thing. “We froze you out! Left you alone! Accused you of lying about how Elias was treating you--Jon. Being upset about a stupid promotion doesn’t warrant how we treated you. You know that, right?”

“I don’t. I don’t know?” Sasha hushed Tim before he could start up again.

“It doesn’t. And when you became ill we blamed you for that too, for not telling us after we gave you no reason to trust that we would help and it wasn’t right.” Gently, she embraced him and he couldn’t stop himself from collapsing into her and while she wasn’t always one for physical displays of affection, she pressed him closer. “We’re going to do better.”

“We’re in this together, boss, like we should have been from the beginning. From this minute on.” Tim clasped him on the shoulder. “Okay?” Jon, exhausted and confused and hopeful, looked up at Martin when he nodded too.

“Okay.”

#TMA #The magnus archives #Jon sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #sasha james #elias bouchard #hostile work environment #hospital #overwork #stop being mean to jon :<#sick jon

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poodlejoonas · 3 years

Text

Dad!BC AU - the moms

So wow-ihateithere and I (because for some reason Tumblr won’t let me directly @ you) have been tossing out so many amazing ideas for the BC dad AU lately that we’ve thought of pretty much every scenario under the sun. One idea I’d like to throw in here is the group that is the moms who make up their own personal wolfpack. Since they’ll be brought in as stand-alone characters soon, it would be better to have a basic introduction for each and how they know/interact with each other.

(Under the read-more for length)

Joel - Emilia (”Millie”) Hokka - The absolute baddest bitch you will meet on this planet. She's a 5′1″ sweetheart, but if you lay a single finger on her kid, her husband, her BC brothers and sisters, or any of her nieces and nephews, she will become the human embodiment of that one line from “Wolfpack.” You know the one. She’s gone viral before for Joel needing to hold her back from fighting the mom of a kid who’s bullying Enkka at school, and literally watching this tiny woman become a human hurricane at the drop of a hat was enough for this kid to immediately leave him alone. From then on, kids at school know not to come after Viktor Hokka because his mom doesn’t play around. Why would she? After all, she dedicated 18 months of her life to trying to become a mom, and anyone who dares to come after her baby needs a running start to get away from her.

Sometimes even Joel has to hold her back from doing something she probably should regret but wouldn’t if it involved her family. He knows better than to cross a line with her. Then there are other times when they work together to be the shadiest power couple on earth, like when Aleksi’s ex-girlfriend Laila slanders him in the media for talking about taking custody of their son from her. If Joel comes home pissed about something, she’s the first one to jump on board with whatever plan he has to get his point across. She would totally have a stan account on Instagram dedicated to her called “milliehokkasupremacy”. And Joel loves his wife so much that he would eat every bit of this shit up. When she tells someone off, he writes down what she says and turns it into the lyrics of Blind Channel’s next single.

In short, Millie Hokka is 100 percent That Bitch™.

Bonus bit because this idea made me laugh: (in the comments section of a post slandering BC) @milliehokka: Bitch you better take this shit down before I puncture your fucking tires @joelhokka: She's my better half ❤️

Joonas - Kirsten Porko - Kirsten’s one of the quiet BC moms, and a hell of a lot more tame than Millie. But she has her shining moments every now and then, like when she was wondering why Millie took Joel with her knowing that she could’ve easily beaten that bully’s mom’s ass without him. She has the patience of a saint, being married to Joonas and raising two (soon to be three) kids with him. But she adores every minute of their chaotic little family. Since Sohvi was the first of the BC kids, the guys were quick to show up in support of her and Joonas. She was also pretty lonely until the others started dating their wives, and she was more than happy to have more friends to bond with.

She does the most to mother the rest of the kids when they need it. They love to come to their house because Kirsten will have a fresh pan of cookies ready for them. They also like hanging out with Joonas, but Kirsten is a fun aunt on her own. She’s typically the first to show up when one of the other moms tosses out a cry for help in taking care of their kids, especially when they’re newborns and the guys are away on tour. Kirsten’s total aesthetic is the absolute opposite of Joonas’s: she’s bubbly and wears nothing but pastel dresses and soft fabrics. A lot of people wonder what a “nice girl” like her is doing with a punk rocker like Joonas, until you see them interact and know that they’re crazy in love with each other and their kids. She’s the unassuming type, but she loves pranks as much as her husband and kids; she’ll play along whenever there’s a really good one and sometimes she can totally outdo them.

Niko - Jenna Moilanen - Jenna is Millie’s co-conspirator and partner-in-crime. If Millie needs someone to back her up and Joel’s trying to talk her out of whatever she’s thinking about doing, Jenna is the first to show up on the scene. She’s very much Niko’s type - she has just as many tattoos as him, several piercings, and hair that changes color depending on her mood. She’s naturally a blonde but you almost never see her as one. A lot of people tend to pass judgement on her abilities as a mom based on her appearance, but both of her and Niko’s kids adore her (especially their daughter Lahja) and they grow up happy with their loving parents. She’s a fantastic cook and works as a head chef at a five-star steakhouse, and she’s always willing to come home and cook for her family as well. She and Millie are the two shortest of the group, and it’s hilarious because they are both absolute spitfires.

Jenna has the best intuition when it comes to deciding who is trustworthy and who isn’t. There’s no “leader” in the group, but most of the others trust Jenna when someone gives her a bad feeling. She would be the one to raise the alarm on Laila years before she and Aleksi ever break up, and Laila would find the absolute worst way to end up on Jenna’s shit list. In her time with the group, Laila does nothing to help take care of the rest of the kids or try to fit in with the group. One day, when Leevi cries because he needs something, Jenna spots an annoyed expression out of the corner of her eye coming from Laila. It takes an intervention from God to stop Jenna from ripping her apart on the scene. The most important thing to note about Jenna: she calls her closest friends “bitch” affectionately. The moment it stops being affectionate, there’s no turning back.

Olli - Kaarina Matela - The quietest and calmest of the BC moms. She perfectly matches her husband’s energies, which is why they parent their daughters so well. She was definitely more calm than him on the day they learned they were having twins, and still is to this day. When he was panicking about their pregnancy scare, she was still managing to stay collected somehow (but just as relieved as he was). She’s very much like a suburban soccer mom type, but far from being a Karen because she’s aggressively kind to everyone around her, including hardworking people. And Olli just adores her so much, sometimes he doubts if he even deserves her. She’s always the first to remind him that there’s no one else she would rather be with.

Kaarina is the arts and crafts kind of aunt. During the summer, she likes to have the kids come over for day camp style hangout sessions where they mix in time outside with craft activities. She’s the reason why Olli’s stage outfits have been so cool lately, because she’s got a perfect eye for colors and is super skilled at hand-stitching patches. If the kids need anything repaired, they’ll know to go to Aunt Rina first because she’ll either make it as good as new, or turn it into some sick artwork. All the moms get along but she and Kirsten vibe together the best. They get together and plan the summer activities for the kids, which involve Rina planning the crafts and Kirsten baking for, and with, them.

Tommi - Marja Lalli - Marja is unique in her position as a BC mom because she joined the group when her son Miikka from a previous relationship was already almost 4. For a brief time, she was worried about herself and Miikka feeling left out of the group dynamic that was already there, but they were so quick to invite her in as one of them. A lot of it had to do with her being friends with Jenna since elementary school, and Jenna knew that the sisterhood would be more than happy to accept her. She and Niko help set her up with Tommi because they both know he would love her and accept Miikka as his own. She’s chill and reserved, but she’s still a ton of fun to be around. Along with Kaarina and Kirsten, she’s one of the level-headed moms and is typically the voice of reason for a lot of things (especially when it comes to trying to contain Millie and Jenna’s tempers).

The rest of the moms were thrilled when she told them she was pregnant with Anna, but constantly concerned and fretting over her when she was on occasional bed rest. If Tommi couldn’t be with her, it was one of them coming over to help take care of her and Miikka. Marja’s health showed the caring side of the sisterhood of the BC moms, how they are willing to take care of each other in sickness as well as celebrating the good times and defending each other from drama. Even months after Anna is born, they still come over from time to time to see if there’s any way they can help.

Aleksi - Laila Pekkanen (later on, marries Hanna Kaunisvesi) - So this one is a bit complicated. For about three years, Aleksi was in a high-profile relationship with Laila Pekkanen, a producer who worked with him on a solo single before joining BC. They meet again a couple years later and begin a relationship that last for about three years. But it was far from loving, as they were just in general not good for each other. A few weeks after their break-up, Laila calls Aleksi while he’s in the studio to break the news to him that she’s pregnant, which sends Aleksi into total emotional turmoil because he thought they were being careful. Of all the guys, he’s the most careful with avoiding this kind of thing, but it was her who missed one too many days of her birth control. They’re barely on speaking terms, but they agree to try to stay cordial until Aleksi can take full custody of the child himself. She admits to having no maternal instinct and wants nothing to do with the baby.

Here’s where it gets messy. Aleksi finally decides to break his silence on the matter and announces via Instagram that he will be a father and raise his son on his own. He does his best to tell his side of the story without dragging Laila down. But she takes it personally and goes on the radio to try to attack Aleksi, feeling like she’s being treated like a villain and a bad person for giving up her child. She feels like she’s being “exposed” in thinking that Aleksi publicly acknowledging their son’s existence would ruin her career, because she’d been trying everything possible to cover it up. It becomes a major feud between her and her team, and Aleksi and the BC team, but more industry people can back him up as a stand-up guy than they can come to her defense. She nearly ends up having Noah prematurely, and yet Aleksi still shows up in support, more so for their son than for her. When Noah is born months later, she refuses to hold him and immediately cuts off all contact with Aleksi.

Aleksi raises Noah alone and learns to support his son when he’s later diagnosed on the autism spectrum. Noah is semi-verbal and partially communicates with sign language. He uses sign in situations when he meets a stranger, and Aleksi respects his intuition when someone makes him uncomfortable. Noah has separation anxiety from losing his mom at a young age, so Aleksi refuses to date for years because he doesn’t want to bring a revolving door of strangers around him. But then he meets Hanna, who makes an almost instant connection with him. He’s hesitant to make a decision about a long-term relationship with her until he sees how well she works with Noah. She’s one of the first people he opens up to - mostly because of her experience as a child psychologist - but the moment that seals the deal is when Noah calls her “mom” for the first time (in sign to his cousins). Fans and people he works with can’t help but notice that Aleksi is so much happier with Hanna than Laila. And as much as he would like to have a baby with her, he’s happy having Noah and wants to invest his energy into ensuring his happiness. But Hanna understands, because she’s an angel and only wants the best for her family.

#blind channel #dad!blind channel #no idea what else to tag this as lol #this is a lot more fun than making them all reader inserts #i love writing reader inserts but it'll be nice to see them interacting with each other

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malucy31 · 3 years

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Time is On Our Side

Alec is stuck on a mission in India in the 18th century and he misses Magnus. One day, he wakes up somewhere that feels and smells like home.

Chapter 1/3 - Moon troubles

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In a state of semi-consciousness, Alec senses Magnus hovering somewhere over him, his soothing words, soothing voice, familiar presence. When he manages to blink his eyes open, it’s only for a second.

The light is too harsh.

“Magnus…” his voice trails off on its own. He missed him so much.

“Hello, there. You slept all morning, I was starting to fear you wouldn’t wake up at all.”

“The mission, it – ”

“Shh, you’ve been injured, try not to talk.”

“Thought it’d never end…”

“It’s over now. You’re safe here.”

Alec smiles at these words, letting his muscles relax into Magnus’s magic. If he opened his eyes, he knows he would see his lovely husband weaving blue tendrils of magic like strings of air and atoms. But his eyelids are too heavy, and everything is so peaceful.

Two weeks.

Those missions are always supposed to last two weeks, but they never do. Faint recollections of a missed new moon and a missed opportunity to go home cross his mind.

How long has it been? A month? A month and a half?

Alec can’t focus. He has missed Magnus so much, has craved being in his arms, hearing his voice. It has just been too long.

Above him, Magnus says things, but Alec’s brain only registers a few words of reassurance, maybe replies to his unconscious ramblings. He doesn’t even know what he is saying.

Disappointment settles when the soft buzzing of Magnus’s magic leaves his skin. He realizes he must be pouting because the musical laughter he loves so much answers him.

“Try to rest. I’ll be in the next room if you need me, okay?”

Alec pictures himself nodding but has no idea if his head follows. After that, everything fades.

Magnus’s magic must have been what kept him awake because when he regains consciousness, it’s to an evening light filtering through half-closed shutters.

The feelings he had earlier are still floating at the edge of his memory. Magnus’s magic is there too, purring underneath his skin like it has found a home there. As always, Alec opens himself up to the feelings, letting it drizzle, letting it settle in every numb place.

Peacefulness only lasts a few seconds though. The sheets under his palms are rougher than usual. It’s not the silk he was expecting to find. These remind him more of the ones he had at the Institute. More than a bit confused, he sits up, trying not to pay too much attention to his still painful right arm.

Something as simple as it is terrifying grows in his stomach as he takes in his surroundings.

He is neither in their bedroom, nor at the Institute.

In fact, Alec has no idea where he is. It feels like home, but it isn’t. Between the echoes of a familiar magic lovingly coiling up around his bones and the scent of sandalwood coming from the other side of the door, Alec could swear he is at their loft, just like he could swear that Magnus is brewing a batch of his sandalwood shampoo.

Did Magnus add a room to the loft while he was away?

It shouldn’t be this difficult to remember, but everything is blank. It’s only when he sits at the edge of the bed and sees his reflection in the mirror that his brain finally catches up with the situation.

This isn’t his face, he is glamoured as a Mundane.

And he isn’t home because the mission isn’t over yet.

He is still in India in the 18th century…

Great.

Alec heaves a long sigh and falls back on the mattress, wincing as the room spins around him. He was so sure he was home, so sure that this whole nightmare was finally over. But no. The demon they had to kill was harder to find, making them miss the new moon, miss the ritual and forcing them to wait another month in a place and time they were never supposed to be.

So no, he isn’t home. Far from it.

His memories are coming back, but what drove him here is still a mystery. What happened?

It was Magnus with him earlier, and it’s him in the next room. That’s a certainty.

Everything starts spinning again, and Alec has to close his eyes.

What did he tell him? Not too much hopefully, nothing that can’t be put under the account of being injured and groggy, right? How long was he unconscious? Did he miss the new moon again? The thought makes him sit back up, swallowing a moan because his right arm is really hurting.

He can’t wait another month here.

He can’t.

He needs to go home, he needs Magnus, his Magnus. He is sick of falling asleep in beds that are too small, too cold, and too hard. Sick of waking up and having quick breakfasts amongst the other Shadowhunters like he used to do when everything inside of him felt wrong. He wants his life back. Now.

Jace would tell him to stop overreacting, but he doesn’t know what a life with Magnus is. He doesn’t know that nothing compares to this life they are building year after year. Jace doesn’t know, he can’t.

Tears start prickling at the corner of his eyes. Alec is just so tired… It almost makes him regret this blissed state of half-consciousness from earlier where everything felt like a dream.

In the next room, he hears Magnus make a contented noise, humming in approval and commenting to himself like he often does when he tries something new in his apothecary or in the kitchen. Without realizing it, Alec stands up, feeling much lighter. Quiet and calm are replacing the spiraling storm inside his head. There’s nothing like Magnus being happy to make him forget about everything wrong in the world.

It pains him to think he should escape through the window. He has no idea how he ended up here, at Magnus’s or what he told him. It would be safer to escape.

But on the other hand, isn’t that exactly why Magnus didn’t travel with him? Or why he made sure to add a protection spell to Alec’s glamor? They all knew this could happen. This Magnus won’t be able to detect his glamor, his Magnus won’t arrive to save him… There really isn’t any danger, is there?

Before he can make a decision, Alec is at the door, already hearing his siblings’ snigger at their lovesick brother. He just… A month and a half is too long. He misses him too much.

It’s impossible to hold back his smile and sudden yearning when he opens the door. It’s the apothecary. The exact replica of the one Alec knows so well by now. He doesn’t have time to observe the details because Magnus is already meeting his stare.

“There’s our mysterious and reckless traveler! How do you feel?”

“Better, thanks.”

“Is it still hurting?” Magnus asks, pointing to Alec’s right arm as he absently rubs it.

The scent of sandalwood and home is so overwhelming that Alec is barely aware of his own answer, or of the fact that Magnus is approaching.

With an elegant movement, he lets a little of his magic rain over Alec’s arm. As it usually does, it curls up around him with a tenderness that leaves him speechless. It makes this Magnus’s face soften, just like it does with his Magnus.

I missed this. I missed you, he wants to say and has to bite his tongue to refrain.

Euphoria fades abruptly when he realizes that this is the second time Magnus has used his magic on him without trying to hide it. Magnus, who isn’t supposed to know him or know that he is part of the Shadow World.

If he is acting like this, it means Alec did or said something he shouldn’t have.

What did he do? How much did he reveal while he was unconscious? Did he doom them forever? Will he come back to an empty loft? To a life where he doesn’t know Magnus at all?

Maybe he should have escaped through the window after all. He is getting nauseous. His mind sinks into bottomless spirals and the room spins again. It’s too late to play dumb, to withdraw his arm and look scandalized, asking things like What kind of witchcraft is this? It’s not like Alec has ever learned how to lie properly anyway.

Magnus must feel his sudden distress because he gently leads him back to a chair, “There, everything’s alright. Better?”

Alec can’t even nod.

As for Magnus, he is smirking, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Don’t worry, mysterious traveler, I don’t know a thing about you.”

Apparently, glamor or not, Magnus can still read him like an open book. Alec doesn’t know if it should make him scared or make him fall in love a little more. Maybe both. Definitively the latter.

“Good,” Alec can’t help replying and regretting it immediately because the amusement on Magnus’s features fades away. He knows his husband enough to know that this mysterious traveler must intrigue him. While healing him, he probably felt a lingering taste of magic, of his own magic without really understanding it.

“Come with me,” he eventually says. “You should eat something.”

Magnus’s kitchen makes Alec smile too.

Once, Magnus told him he used several decades of his life to perfect his cooking skills, even owned a restaurant. Something fancy and prestigious that still exists, where he took Alec for their tenth anniversary.

Seeing what can only be called a mess in the kitchen, Alec wonders if this is when Magnus started experimenting.

Usually, Alec gets nervous around mess, but never around Magnus’s. There is always a certain beauty about it, something that reflects his mere soul. Herbs are hanging from the ceiling, drying, diffusing the light in shades of rosemary, wild citrus, and marjoram. On the countertop next to the window are several bowls turned upside down to protect what Alec can only call mixtures. He frowns before remembering that one of Magnus’s obsessions in cooking were mushrooms. The rare and disgusting kinds if anyone were to ask him.

But what Alec finds the most endearing are the vegetables. He knows how Magnus likes to sort them out and visibly, he has kept the same habits in centuries. He sorts them out by colors, giving every corner of the room the right shade of red, yellow, green, or purple.

It’s all about the colors and how each piece reflects the light around, my dear, Magnus explained once. Would you like to help?

It was fun. It was more like Alec was fumbling with everything Magnus gave him than helping, but it felt like watching his husband apply his makeup or redecorate their home. Magnus was opening up for him, letting him share his view of the world, and it was mesmerizing. The world as a work of art. That was something new to Alec, and after getting a taste, he couldn’t get enough. Every detail pointed out by Magnus was like a revelation to him.

He is still daydreaming when Magnus starts cooking something, using some magic to speed things up. It stresses Alec again to watch his future husband use magic in front of him – a stranger. What happened?

“Please, have a seat, it will be ready soon.”

“Thanks.”

Alec does as he is told, not really knowing where to start, not wanting to make things worse by saying the wrong thing. He is about to ask what day it is when Magnus reads his mind again.

“I found you last night, some meaningless demons were after you. I wondered what demons could want with a Mundane in the middle of the night when I saw you draw a sword out of thin air. I thought you were a Shadowhunter, but I don’t see any rune or glamour.”

He stops for a while, deep in thought, allowing Alec the time bask in relief.

“You had almost all of them killed, and I was about to let you handle it when one of them bit you, and you collapsed. The thing poisoned you. It’s meant to affect your memory of them. Some kind of defense mechanism to make sure you don’t remember any of it.”

Oh.

Alec means to thank him, but Magnus continues in a more cautious voice.

“I’m guessing asking you who you are is useless, huh?” he turns slightly, enough for Alec to get a glimpse of his expression. Curiosity. Alec swallows thickly.

“I… I wish I could tell you, but it’s um—”

“Dangerous?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

Magnus sighs. “I figured. You said that a lot this morning… Normally, I’d try harder, but there’s clearly something unique about you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. It’s…something about the way my magic responded to you, or rather how your body accepted it like it would oxygen, and at the same time, something was keeping me out.”

“I’m sorry, I really can’t say a thing.”

“It’s alright. I have nothing but time to figure it out, and you must have a lot of fascinating stories to tell. I want to spend a nice evening for a change.” On those words, Magnus brings food to the table and smiles. “Shall we?”

Thousands of memories instantly bloom in Alec’s mind from the seeds of these words and this smile.

To appease his homesick heart, Alec answers what he always does, re-enacting a cherished routine he has been craving for the last month and a half. “After you.”

#malec fic #malec fanfic #malec fanfiction #alec lightwood #magnus bane #my writing #shadowhunters #time travel #alec misses magnus #fluff #tiny bit of magnus angst #but alec is there #don't worry #emotional hurt/comfort #a lot of love #malec

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henoda4 · 3 years

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--Just a little ficlet I had rolling around in my brain after the latest manga chapter. Can be read as platonic or romantic bkdk. Hopefully not too OOC, and probably some grammatical errors. Enjoy!--

* Manga spoilers- for those not caught up to chapter 317, ye' be warned!*

Finding that which is Lost:

It's been days, multiple infuriating days of searching, flying over rooftops and zigzagging through desolate alley ways and getting mostly useless information from the occasional civilian. Bakugou was pissed, hell he'd been pissed since he'd woken up in a hospital only to find out Deku was still unconscious, and then later to a goddamn letter and a nerd who'd gone off to fuck-knows-where. Uraraka had tried to tell him that he was probably just scared more so than angry, that they all were. Naturally he told her to shove it. But more than anything he'd been pissed from the moment that All Might walked right back into the UA dorms, fucking months later, looking absolutely miserable and terrified. The former Pro Hero had barely gotten the explanation out of what he and Deku had been up to before he'd straight up slugged the man. Deku left All Might behind? Deku's pushing everyone away? What the fuck does that even mean? Godammit, didn't he warn the damn nerd not to do this shit?! All Might at least had the decency to look apologetic, as if he knew he deserved the hit.

As he moves the buildings start to blur a bit and he recalls a memory from the recesses of his mind. He and Deku had been very little, he doesn't recall how old exactly, he just knew it was at some point before he had driven a wedge between their friendship, and it was the first time both of their families had gone on a camping trip. The two children had wandered away from the campsite for a bit to explore. He recalls several minutes passing and him and Deku getting separated, and even though /he/ wasn't scared of anything in the woods, he wanted to keep Deku close, you know, just in case, poor nerd would probably bawl his eyes out without him. Sure enough after a few minutes of searching he heard loud sobs and found the green haired boy crouched underneath a tree, his knees all scratched up from taking a tumble. Deku's green eyes lit up in relief upon seeing him and his little heart swelled at the reaction.

"Kacchan!"

"Stupid Izuku! I told you to stay with me!"

"I know, I'm sorry Kacchan, I guess I got lost."

"Can you walk?"

"Yeah-"

"Well, come on then!"

He grabbed Deku's hand and yanked him upright, then practically pulled him along behind him.

He put on his best All Might voice impression, "It's okay now, ya' know why? Because I'm here so you're not lost anymore. Let's go back Izuku!"

If he'd turned behind him, he'd have seen the beaming smile aimed his way.

But all he heard was the small, "Thanks, Kacchan."

Back in the present moment, Bakugou was snapped out of his memory by a blur of green, and he abruptly came to a halt on a rooftop. Looking over the edge, he saw down to the street below where there was another flash of green and just as suddenly a figure stepped out, their silhouette half covered in shadows. His eyes widened, he was far away, so he couldn't be sure. But that lightning, the black-green tendrils that trailed the figure, it had to be...it couldn't be. He leapt ahead to the next building over making sure never to lose sight of the ground below, and then jumped down the side to stay out of the figure's line of vision. He silently thanked Hatsume for the upgrades to his gauntlets that rendered them way quieter than usual. As he peaked around the corner he saw the figure walk close to the sides of the building heading his direction. Suddenly their head came under a direct beam of light from a street lamp, and he felt his whole body freeze from the inside out.

The person in front of him, was unmistakably Deku. The teal jumpsuit, worn and disgustingly dirty and covered in various degrees of drying blood, his leg bracers ripped to shreds, those ridiculous bunny ears frayed, and those red shoes that he would recognize anywhere. It was Deku, but not Deku as he had named him, a useless person, incapable of doing anything, and not Deku as the boy himself had taken the meaning, a person capable of anything, full of unlimited promise. No this was Deku as in a doll, a mere foreboding vessel of power and purpose. There was nothing in those green eyes, glowing but soulless. It was Deku, but it was no longer the Deku he knew, and it definitely wasn't Midoriya Izuku.

"I know you're there. Although if you're not here to attack me, then what is your purpose?"

Bakugou flinched at the voice, momentarily having forgotten about "Danger sense", All Might had tried to explain before, but he'd been a little too preoccupied planning how to get around the security at UA to go after Deku to pay close attention to the details.

He figured to hell with it and stepped out into Deku's line of view.

"What the hell do you think I'm here for Deku?"

Now Deku froze, his head raising slightly. His voice came out quiet and hesitant, completely unfitting the ominous aura his appearance gave off.

"Kacchan? Is that really you?"

"Who the fuck else would it be?"

To his surprise Deku started approaching him again, the tendrils of black whip receding and the lightning dimming to nothing. When he was close enough he yanked his hood down, and Bakugou got an up close look at the grime and blood caked on his face, the sunken eyes and black bags of sleep deprivation.

"What the fuck happened to you Deku?"

The green haired boy seemed nearly ready to collapse, as if he was standing upright on sheer willpower and adrenaline alone. Bakugou fought the urge to grab him and throttle him, as fragile as he seemed at the moment, like a breathe would knock him over. Instead it was Deku who grabbed him by the arm as if he couldn't believe his eyes alone, and needed the physical confirmation of his presence.

"I'm glad you're okay. I was worried... after you, you know."

Bakugou felt his anger boil back to the surface.

"Worried about me?! What the fuck?! Worry about yourself for fucking once! Do you have any idea how upset everyone was when you took off after nearly dying, and then left only a fucking letter! How worried sick your mom is?! How scared your fucking shitty friends are?!"

He didn't realize he was shaking until he felt Deku's hand slide down his arm slightly.

"I'm sorry Kacchan, I know I should've talked to you in person. But I had to go, and if I had waited, you would have tried to stop me."

"DAMN RIGHT I WOULD HAVE!"

Silence.

"I told you not to do this shit on your own Deku, I told you not to play the hero on your own. Do you not think I'm strong enough to help you?! Are you actually fucking looking down on me this time?!"

"No, of course not! I told you I've never looked down on you. I just....I can't see you get hurt for me again. I can't risk anyone getting hurt again because of me, because I couldn't do anything to protect them....I can't let that happen! I have to do this on my own. OFA was given to me so I could-"

"You're such a fucking idiot. You think you can take down every fucking villain on your own? Take down AFO on your own?"

The little shit had the nerve to smile awkwardly at him, "I've managed fine so far."

Bakugou yanked his arm out of Deku's grasp, and gestured at his whole body.

"This! This is not fine! You're barely standing, you're covered in blood and you look like you haven't slept in weeks. When's the last time you fucking ate? You can't keep this up Deku, even in his prime All Might didn't handle shit like this. And I know I said some real shitty stuff in the past about you being quirkless, but you are more than just OFA's vessel. You were the one to fucking get that through my head.. that we are more than just our quirks. So what the hell?"

"I-"

"Just let me help you Deku."

"But Kacc-"

"Dammit! It took me years to understand that you genuinely wanted to help me not because you thought I was weak, but just because you're a natural born hero and you care about me or some shit. Just..just let me return the favor for once. You don't have to do this alone."

He turned his head away uncomfortably, suddenly acutely aware of how inept he was at expressing himself in these delicate situations. How was he supposed to get through to Deku? Would this be enough? The nerd always seemed to be able to read him like a book, he hoped that proved to be the case now.

"Ka-"

He felt his eyes sting with unshed tears. He was running out of options, aside from pummeling the nerd into submission. But for once he wanted to chose a different option.

"Please Izuku." He lifted his gaze to meet his child hood friend's. A silent plea hanging in the air.

In the span of seconds that felt like an eternity they kept eye contact and Deku seemed like he was trying to find something in that contact, like a promise, or a confirmation, whatever it was, he finally sighed and lowered his gaze to the ground.

It was barely a whisper.

"Okay."

Bakugou let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Can you walk nerd?" He extended his hand out to the green haired teen who took it right away. He tightened his grip immediately.

"Yeah, but I'm a little sleepy-"

Before Deku could finish, and without a word Bakugou yanked the other teen towards himself and lifted him up. The teen seemed surprisingly small and light in his arms, a far cry from the monstrous visage he painted when they first crossed paths several minutes ago.

As he walked down the blocks and could feel the tension leave Deku's body as his form went slack, he gazed down to see the nerd's eyes slowly closing, he must be exhausted. He kept walking down the vacant streets, on alert for any potential threats, the nerd's weight a comforting presence in his arms. He assumed the other teen was already unconscious .

He briefly gazed up and saw the stars through the gaps between the building silhouettes, he thought back again to that time in the forest as kids.

He whispered in the dark, "It's okay now, ya' know why? Because I'm here so you're not lost anymore. Let's go back."

If he had looked down a second time he would have seen the subtle but content smile aimed at him. But all he heard was the small, "Thanks, Kacchan." before the teen fell asleep in his arms.

#bkdk #platonic bkdk #bkdk fic #bnha bkdk #bnha #mha bkdk #bnha angst #bnha spoilers #bnha 317

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just-another-ficwriter · 3 years

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Holidate - Part Four

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Reader

Words: 2000ish

Warnings: Alcohol, jealously, sexual references

Summary: Tired of being alone on holidays, Sweet Pea and Y/N decide to be each other’s plationic plus-ones all year round. What could go wrong?

Notes: Next part will be posted over Easter week! Also using this part to fill the ‘Bar Crawl’ square on my @riverdalebingo card!

St Patrick’s Day 2021

“Thank you for coming tonight.”

She whispers as they make their way into the first bar, squeezing the fingers he has linked with hers, a small attempt to make their relationship look more believable.

He’d arrived in New York a little after the others, leaving them no time to talk things over and plan the night out. He’d barely gotten his head around the fact they’d be sharing a bed for the weekend before they were piling into a cab and heading down town.

“What else are Holidates for?” He grins down at her, eyes not so subtle moving to check her out for the second time that night. He reads the green glittered writing for what feels like the millionth time, ‘Kiss me, I’m Irish’ printed in bold across her chest.

An impulse buy, she had told him, from their first St Patrick’s night out several years before. It’s little too tight, and she’s constantly fighting with it to stay down, but she’d promised it would help them get free shots later in the night and they’d both laughed.

By the time they make it over to the table, Jason’s around bought the first round and with a beer bottle held high in the air, he kicks off the celebrations.

It isn’t until the second place, and the drinks start to take affect, that Betty starts to pry.

The boys had disappeared to the bar, watching some sport on the big screen, chatting away while they wait for the drinks. Pea had no issue fitting right in, and Polly was quick to notice.

“I like him.” She steals a glance over her shoulder at the guy in question.

“Do you think you’ll move in with him?” Betty suddenly asks, straight to the point, and Y/N chokes on the cocktail she’d mistakenly just taken a sip of.

She’s surprised to see Sweet Pea’s head turn to check she’s ok when he hears, a soft smile on his face when their eyes meet. She sends him a similar warm one back before she’s glaring at her sisters again. “We’ve only been dating for 3 months.”

“I had my whole life planned out with Jug after the first week.” She wants to point out that not everyone can be like Betty Cooper, not everyone gets to live out a fairytale lifestyle with their high school sweetheart like she had once hoped.

But a hint of guilt from lying straight to their faces swirls in her stomach, and she bites back the snide remark. “We’re taking it slow.”

“Is he bad in bed?” Polly’s more drunk than she thought, and her loud questioning catches the attention of the next table over. However, the older Cooper doesn’t seem to notice. “I mean you guys have done it right-“

“Has who done what?” She’s cut off by the boys reappearing, bearing a tray of fresh drinks and a suspicious look from Jug.

Betty smirks. “Polly wants to know if Sweet Pea and Y/N have slept together.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jason laughs, shaking his head as Y/N suddenly finds interest in the cocktail umbrella sticking out of her drink.

But then a silence falls cross the table, and all four pairs of eyes turn to them, eagerly waiting for an answer. “Well?” Polly persists.

Unfazed, Sweet Pea squeezes her thigh under the table and answers for them both. “A gentleman never tells.”

By the time they hit the third bar, Sweet Pea’s boarding tipsy.

He can feel it in the way his jaw clenches when someone catches Y/N’s arm as she walks passed, in the way his chest burns unfamiliar as she leans in for a hug and the stranger pecks her on the cheek.

He knows it’s stupid, knows that technically she isn’t his girlfriend but the lines of reality are starting to blur as the alcohol soaks in and he can’t stop himself from walking over.

Y/N sends him a pointed look as discreetly as she can when he pulls her into his side, and causally introduces himself as her boyfriend. Five minutes later, they’re walking away with polite goodbyes and heading straight for the bar.

Y/N can’t help but look up at him with a smug grin, giggling a little as she teases. “Were you jealous?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You aren’t actually my girlfriend remember?” He tries to brush it off but something tells him they both know it’s a lie. He’s quick to think of another excuse that’s better than the first. “I was just worried what your sisters might say if they found you talking to some other guy.”

“They’d say Hey Chuck, how have you been since high school?” She laughs again and it makes him feel worse. That stranger wasn’t a stranger at all, and he’d almost made a scene over two old friends catching up.

Maybe he was finding this whole fake dating thing hard than he thought.

She doesn’t seem to notice as she waves at the bar tender, calling him over. “Come on, we need more shots.”

Sweet Pea’s almost certain he doesn’t need any more shots.

The fourth bar brings green beers and another round of tequila.

Polly raises her glass in the air, liquor messily pouring over the rim and down her hand. “To Y/N’s love life!”

“Cheers to that!” Betty’s quick to follow, giggling loudly as she clinks their glasses together and more goes spilling over.

He watches Y/N roll her eyes at their teasing with a shake of her head, but knocks her own shot back regardless, holding eye contact as he does the same. Neither flinch at the liquid burning it’s way down their throats.

It feels more intimate than it should and for a second Sweet Pea forgets they’re around other people.

But then the song blasting out around them changes and Y/N’s leaning forward to whisper confidently in his ear, her breath tickling his neck. “Dance with me?”

She’s on her feet before he can answer, not that he would have said no anyway, pulling him through the crowd until they find an empty space under the flashing lights. Sweet Pea can feel the beat of the music vibrating beneath them, flowing through him almost as much as the alcohol and lets it take control.

One song some how turns into three, or maybe four, he’s lost count. He’s too entranced by Y/N swaying back and fore in front of him, head tilted back as she moves to the rhythm, her back almost against his chest. She doesn’t move away when he’s finally brave enough to close that small gap, a nervous hand falling to her hip as she leans back against him.

The action alone makes his throat burn more than any shot of tequila could.

Y/N swears she sees his eyes light up when they walk into the fifth and final bar, and Jug invites him to play on the pool table tucked in the corner.

“Oh, it’s on.” There’s a new air of confidence surrounding him now as he picks up a cue, and she finds it a little too easy to fall into the roll of supportive girlfriend, cheering him on when the game starts.

He finds himself gravitating back to her side in between every shot. A lose arm around her shoulders, a delicate kiss to her forehead. They’d both become more handsy as the night wore on and she’d welcomed every affectionate touch.

She screams in triumph when he pockets the last ball, solidifying his win. Victorious laughter punctuating the air between them as he scoops her up, spinning her around in celebration.

Maybe it’s the alcohol that’s flowing through her system, or the rush of adrenaline pulsing from his win, but Y/N suddenly uses her newly found height to her advantage, pressing an eager kiss to his lips.

It takes her all of a second to realise what she’s doing, but before she can pull alway, he’s kissing her back.

And with that, she’s phasing out the rest of the bar, ignoring the loud music and jostling bodies, only focusing on him.

Until Betty’s shouting out and they’re jumping apart. “Get a room!”

Sweet Pea huffs as she throws him down on the bed.

Getting him into the apartment had been a task, even with Jason and Jug holding him up. It didn’t help that they were almost as drunk as him.

She doesn’t get the chance to slip out and change before he’s catching her wrist, pulling her to the mattress with a gentle tug.

“Can I tell you a secret?” He whispers into the dark, fingertips running up and down her bare arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

There’s a still moment where her eyes find his, and he’s left wondering if she knows what he’s about to say, if she wants him to say it. If he should even be thinking it at all. But then she giggles, the sound making him feel warm before she finally answers. “Sure.”

He gives her a goofy grin, but hesitates when her palms fall flat against his chest. His heart’s beating so fast he’s suddenly afraid she might feel it through his shirt, he’s very aware of how close they are now. “Sometimes, I forget this isn’t real.” He breathes out.

Y/N feels her heart vault in her throat from his words, her eyes wide from the confession.

She tries to laugh it off but there’s a nervousness hidden underneath. “You’re drunk Pea.”

“Still mean it.” He mumbles, shifting so he lands onto his back and lazily pulls her with him.

She’s quick to tuck herself into his side, inviting the warmth radiating from him as she doubts he even knows what he’s saying. She makes the decision to close her eyes and ignore it instead. “Go to sleep Pea.”

Sweet Pea rolls over onto fitted sheets that definitely aren’t his. His head hurts with a pounding ache, and just when he feels brave enough to open his eyes a little and sneak a glance around him, he’s hit with a blinding light so harsh it makes him feel sick.

That’s when he remembers last night. Or at least parts of it anyway. Everything’s a blur after the third bar.

“Shit.” He groans, his throat painfully dry as he blindly pats the bed next to him in an attempt to find Y/N, only to feel nothing but empty space instead.

“Morning Sunshine.” She laughs from where she makes her way into the room, amused by his dishevelled hair and lack of enthusiasm at being awake.

It takes a few seconds, but eventually he attempts to open his eyes again, reluctant and slow. Another groan slips out. “Why don’t you look how I feel?”

“Years of practice I guess.” She shrugs, slipping in besides him and handing over a warm mug. “Thought some coffee might help.”

Their finger tips briefly touch and thoughts of last night come back to him, his cheeks burning red in shame. He takes a quick sip that burns his tongue and hopes she won’t notice.

They’d kissed. Or at least he thinks they had. It’s all a little hazy.

“Did we…” He can’t meet her gaze, refuses to look up and see her reaction. Instead he just lamely points between them and the bed.

“Sleep together?” She leans back into the mattress with a devilish glint in her eye, her next words sounding more flirtatious than she intended. “Trust me Pea, you’d remember if we did.”

He smirks in her direction, tilting his head to the side playfully with an eyebrow raised. All awkward tension from a minute before melts away as he chuckles in surprise. “Is that so?”

“Just drink your coffee, Betty wants to go exploring New York.” A pillow hits him on the side of his face with a soft thud and another round of laughter erupts between them. She wonders if now is the right time to bring up his drunk confession but quickly changes her mind. “And you definitely look like you need all the caffeine you can get.”

Sweet Pea Masterlist

Forever Taglist: @p-marie-sp

Sweet Pea Taglist: @80sand90simagine @hopelesslylosttheway @be-gay-do-crime-cutie

Holidate Taglist: @popcrone818 @dcnerd98

#riverdale bingo #sweet pea #sweet pea riverdale #sweet pea x y/n #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea series #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea edit #sweet pea fanfiction #riverdale #riverdale sweet pea #riverdale edit #riverdale series #riverdale imagine #riverdale fanfiction

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anonniemousefics · 4 years

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The Nine Terrifying Moons | Masterlist

Based on the response to this post. :) Oh, yes, we’re doing the thing.

Cross-posted to AO3.

Fandom: The Folk of the Air | Jude + Cardan

Chapter One: The First

I am trying to keep my hands from shaking while I’m holding the test strip. There’s one pink line, and I’m waiting to see if there will be two. I think I already know the answer, but I’m holding my breath like it’ll make time go faster anyway.

If I ever imagined this moment, which I don’t remember ever doing, but if I did, I would have imagined it like the commercials that would run in the background when my mom would watch tv while she cooked dinner. If those were to be believed, I was supposed to be in an all-white, pristine, upper-middle-class bathroom, gasping with tears of joy while I hid my pearly white smile behind trembling fingers. My partner would be hugging me from behind, elated and definitely not about to make any crude jokes about the virulence of his sperm.

None of this is happening.

I am in a Target bathroom stall, surrounded by Target-red walls. Cardan, my husband and the High King of Elfhame, is on the other side of the red walls, trying to distract himself with the automatic paper towel dispensers. He’s waving his hand in front of it every couple of seconds; I can hear it each time the motor dispenses paper. I wonder how long of a trail he’s created at this point, but it’s the least of my worries.

“Cardan, you’re wasting paper,” I tell him anyway. He does it again once more; I can practically feel his petulant glare through the wall.

“How long is this meant to take?” he asks.

“It’s only been thirty seconds,” I tell him. “It takes two minutes.”

“I will die of old age by then,” Cardan mutters to himself, which I know he finds funny, because he’s immortal, and he waves his hand by the paper towel dispenser again.

I think I’m going to have a nervous breakdown.

Cardan had not been keen on this particular trip to Target, which is saying a lot, because he’s usually so fond of it. He had wanted to cut our trip to the mortal world short, head back to Elfhame and its royal healers and midwives and have me submit to their inquiries and tests, as all queens and lovers of the High Kings of Elfhame have before me.

But I just needed a minute to think. I needed to process this, with Cardan alone, and face the impossibly difficult questions we’ve been avoiding since this became a question. And if this is true, if I really am with child, with Cardan’s child, I don’t want the first people to know to be a bunch of faerie midwives. I want to tell Vivi and Heather. I want Taryn to know first. And I am filled with loathing when I think about how protected and insulated I’m about to become when the healers and midwives know. How the people will cease to see me as their High Queen and rather as the incubator for their Prince.

I want to eat an entire pint of Ben and Jerry’s. This is all happening so fast.

I glance back at the test strip. Stand and flush the toilet. Step out of the red walls.

Cardan’s raised his dark eyebrows, his hand arrested halfway to the paper towel dispenser again.

“Well?” He looks guarded, unsure of how he’s supposed to be reacting. I hand him the test and step up to the sink, turning on the water to wash my hands. I can see him in the mirror behind me, in his tight pants and boots, The Ramones T-shirt he’s borrowed from Vivi. He’s turning the test over and over in his hands, like he can’t tell which way is up. Same, honestly. My head feels like it’s detached from my body.

“It’s yes,” is the only dumb thing I manage to mutter as I soap up my fingers. Just like the commercials.

“How can you tell?” Cardan’s only looking more confused.

“The two lines.” I turn off the water and tear off part of Cardan’s paper towel train. “The two pink lines mean yes.”

Cardan looks up at me. His chest is hitching in shallow breaths.

“We should be celebrating,” he says, but it comes out like he’s trying to convince himself. So he tries again, squaring up his shoulders with a bit more enthusiasm. “We should be celebrating.”

“Mhmm,” I try to agree with a tight nod. I think I’m going to be sick. Again. Cardan searches my face, his gold-rimmed eyes flitting over the lip I’m worrying away at.

“You do not appear to be particularly celebratory,” he points out, but, then, neither does he. His cheekbones are tingeing red.

“It happened so fast, don’t you think?” My voice sounds almost breathless. It feels like a relief to point out, and that relief is contagious. Cardan’s shoulders sag a little bit as he lets out a breath.

“Lightning fast,” he agrees. He’s white-knuckling the pregnancy test.

“Careful -- I peed on that,” I point out, and, as if I’ve instead told him it’s on fire, Cardan hurls it into the trash with a disgusted huff.

I think for a moment about fishing it back out again, the only bit of evidence that I have that what’s going on inside of me is real. That the legacy we wished first wished for together in the dark, in each other’s arms, not even a month ago, is happening now and fast and there’s no going back. The time for second-guessing was over.

But a disconcerting combination of nausea and hunger hit me in the gut all at once, and I’m reminded that I have plenty of evidence and I’m only going to get more. If I really want to, I’ll just pee on another stick later.

“I need Starbucks,” I spout at the same moment Cardan sighs, “I need a drink.” And we share a quick smile.

At there’s still this. This has not changed.

And I should be enjoying that as we leave the bathroom and Cardan lifts the glamour he’d left at the door to give us some privacy. The “Out of Order” sign vanishes. But instead, I’m thinking of everything that is going to change. Of everything that ought to change, immediately, if at all possible.

I find myself unconsciously reaching for Cardan’s hand, and when I grab his palm and entwine our fingers, he’s squeezing mine back, hard. He knows. The worries and arguments past are resurfacing in his mind, too, and, for a moment, he wordlessly anchors himself to me.

We’re walking past customer service, following the alluring scent trail of coffee and baked goods, as I began to look at the other moms shopping. Their cute messy buns and their athleisure, pushing expensive strollers while their kids gnaw on the season’s latest teethers. And I’m struck, once again, by how much I don’t know.

Really, what are we doing here? Of all the people in all the realms, I think we are the last two people who ought to be becoming parents.

For one, I am an unrepentant murderer. Raised by an unrepentant murderer. Who murdered my own mother in front of me. This is not a person who ought to be cradling newborns.

And Cardan? The twice-cursed High King of Elfhame? Raised by house cats, beaten nightly by his own brother. Simultaneously spoiled and neglected. Is such a person even capable of cradling newborns?

And we’re about to be parents. I need to be reading more, I think. I need to have a plan. We never made a plan. We hadn’t had time to make a plan.

I pause a moment near the checkout lines, pulling Cardan to a stop beside me.

“I’m going to buy a few things first,” I decide in that moment. “Vitamins. Maybe some parenting books.”

“I don’t see the point,” Cardan retorts, straight-faced. “We have plenty of house cats.”

I narrow my eyes up at him as he smirks.

“That joke will be hilarious in a few weeks,” he tells me. “Just you wait.”

“I really doubt it,” I frown, and he’s still smirking when he drops my hand, stepping in front of me.

“My darling Jude,” he cups my face in his hands, and for a moment, his face is all I’m seeing. His expression is soft and tender across his beautiful features, and if our child is even half as good as looking, I am going to struggle to not let it have its way in all things. Or I’m going to want to strangle it. Some days, it’s a coin toss.

“You are the most fearsome and glorious creature I have ever had the privilege to behold,” Cardan is telling me. I’m struck once again by the marvel that he can’t lie and what he is saying must be true. In our five years of marriage, it is still sometimes hard to believe.

“And you will be the most fearsome and glorious mother,” he goes on. “I could not conjure up a more perfect mother for my offspring if I tried.”

“I think that says more about your lack of imagination than anything else,” I quip, but my cheeks are smiling in his hands regardless. He smirks back and quickly kisses me on the lips, once, twice.

“I am happy at this news,” he reassures me, as if he has sensed this whole time how overcome I am.

“I am, too,” I say, and I mean it. Truly. I’m a mixing bowl of emotions. My gaze drifts toward the store. “But we do need parenting books…”

Cardan kisses me quick one last time before releasing my face.

“I will procure your coffee,” he says, taking a step back, and it’s impossible not to look him over, his long, lean body in tight, black pants and worn t-shirt, his messy, black curls around the points of his ears. I have modern science to thank for keeping my womb empty these last five years. Chastity certainly had nothing to do with it.

“And Cardan?” I call after him. He turns. “A cake pop, too?” I ask, already in the clutches of a craving.

He looks intrigued.

“Is that what it sounds like?” he asks.

“Ball of cake on a stick,” I explain, kind of gesturing with my hands as if it will help. Cardan nods, determined.

“Then we will be needing several,” he declares before heading off toward the smell of coffee.

I shoulder the bag I borrowed from Heather and then stuff my hands into the pockets of the yellow sundress I’m wearing, one of a few mortal things of my own I keep at Vivi and Heather’s for visits. I’m on my way to the books section when I start to slow down near a display of newborn onesies.

It isn’t as though I never wanted to be a mother. I supposed there would come a day when I would have acquired all the knowledge one needed to be a mother, and then I would, I don’t know, award myself a medal or a pin and be declared Ready.

Taryn hadn’t been Ready. She would be the first to admit that. Not that I don’t love my niece with my entire heart. But Taryn’s daughter was a handful. Little Eva had been colicky and prone to getting her days and nights confused. For that entire first year, every time we saw Taryn, it seemed she faded a little more: the bags under her eyes greying, her auburn hair growing longer and frayed, everything but her breasts shrinking in size. Of course, it wasn’t permanent. Eva learned to sleep eventually, and to walk and eat and use a toilet, and, now that she was a robust and energetic five-year-old, Taryn was more like herself than she’d been in years.

Still. That first year, though.

Time and time again, Cardan and I would exchange glances while Eva squealed and squalled. It was always a silent No, thank you, please passing between us. We’re just fine without, thank you. Between the battle for the crown and undoing a curse, we’d had quite enough excitement, and so I eagerly welcomed Vivi regularly smuggling me little moon-shaped packets of pink pills from the mortal world. I took them each morning, like clockwork, with relish – it meant I could enjoy my freedom, our freedom as long as I wanted.

I’m not sure what happened in me. One day, I was calling it freedom. The next, it felt like an empty vessel.

We’d gone to visit Taryn and Eva at their estate for a summer solstice brunch. Vivi and Heather had come, and The Ghost was there, too, swapping stories and laughing with Vivi. I’d stepped out onto the terrace to call in Eva for food when I’d spotted Cardan. He was helping Eva climb up a tree, holding her hand while she balanced on a branch. Her wild fox hair was blowing in the late morning breeze that carried her giggle up to the house. Then she leapt at him with a delighted squeal, and he caught her and spun her around so that she squealed some more. And that look of sheer joy on his face when she did. His unguarded laugh echoed up through the grassy hills. I felt my heart crack open.

No, thank you, please suddenly felt very unadvised.

“What have I done to deserve such a face?” Cardan asked me, leaving a lingering kiss close to my ear. I guess I was looking a little amorous when he and Eva came inside. Little Eva was trotting off to the kitchens as I wound my fingers against the buttons of Cardan’s doublet, keeping him close for a moment longer.

“You looked happy,” I said as his hands slid around my waist. I looked up into his dark eyes, warm only for me, and saw he was smiling. “You looked like you liked doing fatherly things.”

He pulled me a little closer, a little tighter.

“I think I did,” he admitted, perhaps hardly believing it himself.

And then it happened. The unspoken shift, the change in the air. It seemed to crackle in the space between our gaze, and it took a fair bit of restraint to not pull him into the nearest coat closet and tear off his clothes. Taryn was calling us anyway. The servants had set the table, and no one would be seated until we had taken our chairs, even in this little family arrangement. Taryn was set on Eva learning courtly manners by example.

Courtly manners. By example. Taryn had the best intentions for Eva, but the phrases make me snort even now while I peruse baby clothes in Target. What example did we set in Faerie? One of murder and deceit and betrayal and lewd behavior.

The same day that I’d watched Cardan play with Eva, he abruptly ended dinner in the palace’s great hall to hoist me into his arms and carry me out, away from every one’s gaze, away from even the guards.

“What has gotten into you?” I kicked my feet and pounded at his shoulders – not particularly hard. Look, I’m not going to pretend this isn’t a game now. I could cause damage if I wanted to. I don’t.

Cardan set me on my feet, only to seize my waist in one arm. We stumbled into an alcove in the wall as his head dipped to my neck, his other hand catching us against the wall. Delighted shivers danced down my arms as his lips brushed the spot below my ear, and I couldn’t hold back a gasp.

“You couldn’t lie to me now even if you wanted to, wife,” Cardan murmured, kissing my ear. He wasn’t wrong. I ran my hands up his deep blue velvet doublet to his shoulders, and bent into his embrace. His hands began to roam my waist, my hips, pulling at my skirts.

“I’ll tell you whatever you like if you’ll keep doing this,” I whispered back, flushing. When he pulled back from my throat, there was a wicked, sneaking smile on his reddening lips.

“You don’t despise the thought of bearing my children,” he said, like it’s a revelation. I blinked. Had he been thinking about our previous exchange all day?

“I despise the thought of bearing any children,” I clarified. “It’s not some honor unique to you.”

Cardan gasped as if he was wounded.

“You could not have cut me deeper,” he teased, as I wound my fingers into the soft hair at the nape of his neck. “I thought I was special.”

“You are,” I said, tugging at his hair. “Because if I’m to bear any children at all, I would like them to be yours.”

The smile that spread over his face then was far from wicked. Cardan was flushed and delighted in a way few got to see, and his arms squeezed around me, lifting me to him as he crushed his lips to mine.

“Cardan,” I laughed against his fevered kisses, my cheeks hurting. “I didn’t mean right this second.”

His lips were swollen when he pulled back, the pupils of his gold-rimmed eyes blown wide.

“Then practice with me,” he said, his breathing ragged. “Like swordplay. You’re always saying I’m rubbish at practicing.”

“You really are,” I gasped against his mouth.

In the last five years, I’ve grown no better at resisting the pull of his desire. If anything, I’m only worse. I couldn’t think straight there in his arms. I wanted to drown in his contagious idealism. I wanted to be set aflame by his soft lips and his body against mine.

With my arms thrown over his shoulders, his lips slid against mine, over and over, our hearts pounding in time together. And then he lifted me off my toes so that he could push us both through our bedchamber door.

A shoe slipped from my foot, and he stumbled over it, kicked it to the side, without releasing my waist. Only when the back of my legs pressed against the bedframe did he pull back from my mouth, breathless. And then he pushed me back onto the bed.

I stretched out on the lush duvet, my whole body thrumming as my heart battered my ribcage. But when I looked up at his face there at the foot of the bed, his expression had darkened in the candlelight.

“What is it?” I pushed myself up to my elbows. “Why are you stopping?”

Cardan suddenly looked as if he was at war with himself. Even though his chest still heaved, he inched to the bed and stepped back again, his dark brows furrowing together.

“Cardan…?” I sat up, alarmed at his hesitation.

“Do you think I would be any good at it?” he blurted out. “At being a father,” he clarified, and winced as if he already knew and hated the answer.

I slid to the edge of the bed and reached for his belt. Pulled him closer.

“You are as equipped for the task as I am,” I said, looking up at him with what I hoped was a provocative smile. He slid his long fingers into my hair, and I needed him closer. “If you’re terrible at it, then I will probably be worse.”

I meant it in jest. He’d always liked this side of me before, my dark, warped cruelty. But this time, his fingers tightened suddenly in my hair.

“Shit.” The word slid out of him like it was being dragged. His hands dropped from my hair, and he stepped back to look at me. He drew in a sharp breath.

“You think I would be a terrible father,” he said, which was hardly fair. That wasn’t what I said at all. I sighed hard, ruing the direction this was going – further from the bed.

“I think neither one of us knows what a good father looks like,” I said. Cardan only gave a painful chuckle.

“We are both quite familiar with terrible fathers,” he said. “I think you, of anyone, would be able to recognize a terrible father when you saw one.”

“And that is the last time you will compare yourself to Madoc,” I said, in horror. “If that is the standard for terrible fathers, then you’re angelic.”

But Cardan gave me a look of slit-eyed skepticism, so I stood from the bed and stepped to him.

“And, really, what does it matter right now?” I asked, lowly, holding a hand to his face. He leaned against it. I was almost ready to start begging. “I am not falling pregnant tonight. We have time to learn these things, if we want to learn them at all.” I lifted onto my tip toes, brushing my lips to the hollow of his cheek.

“Just come to bed,” I whispered there, and I saw his eyes fall shut, his dark lashes against his sharp cheekbones, as he turned to meet the slant of my lips.

“I want to be good at it,” he murmured against my mouth, as I dragged him toward the bed.

“Then you will be,” I insisted just before he cradled the back of my neck, sinking into our kiss as we tipped toward the mattress.

We have time. It’s an easy lie to tell when you’re in Faerie. Time stretches on, limitless and unending. There shouldbe time, endless amounts of time, to learn all you need to know – about anything. There should be time to become the person you’d always wanted to be.

I had had two months since that first conversation. Even less time since the others. In Faerie, that’s hardly a lunch hour.

I am reeling. I’m in Target with a red basket full of prenatal vitamins and snacks and pregnancy books, and I am absolutely reeling.

After I check out, I find Cardan sitting on the curb with a Starbucks bag that’s the size of a large gift bag and two venti Frappuccinos. The one he’s nursing is strawberry-pink and looks full of cream.

“They didn’t have wine,” he tells me, handing me mine. It’s drizzled in caramel, and I’m not sure it’s what I would have ordinarily chosen, but right now, it smells perfect.

“Probably for the best,” I say, and hazard a glance at his expression. It’s dark and troubled again as he squints against the sunlight. His legs are drawn up, and he’s resting his elbows on his knees, like he’s hunched under a weight. Reality’s given him a hard jolt since he kissed me in front of the newborn onesies.

I take a long sip of the Frappuccino through the green straw.

“Cardan, if you don’t want to do this--” I start, and his head jerks up.

“I have always wanted this,” he snaps, looking defensive, and then he’s looking at his boots again.

“Okay.” I sit back, extending my legs.

How do I do this? I have no blueprint for this. Floundering, there’s only one rope I know to pull, the one that’s always saved us: honesty.

So, I go on.

“I’m terrified, too,” I say. I spread the yellow fabric of my sundress over my knees. “If that’s any consolation. I think I’ll be happy eventually, but right now, I’m completely freaking out. I can hardly form a coherent thought. How many cake pops did you get?” I cock my head at the large Starbucks bag.

Cardan shifts it in my direction.

“All of them,” he says, glumly.

I raise my eyebrows as I peer in the bag. Oak will be excited, at least.

“I hate myself for being so terrified of a thing I desperately want.” I look up at Cardan’s confession to see his face twisted in loathing, and my heart twists right along with it. I know this pain, the agony of fearing what you love.

I could lie to him; I probably should. I should tell him right now that I know without a shadow of a doubt he will be a perfect father, that he’s beyond everything that had been done to him, that none of it had ever touched me either. But I don’t lie to him anymore.

Instead, I hand him a cake pop.

“That strikes me as a waste of energy,” I say, and nudge him with a coy smile. “There are so many other things you could hate yourself for.”

He gives me a wicked smirk and, instead of taking the cake pop I’ve offered, he seizes my other wrist and takes a large bite out of the one I’d claimed for myself. Feigning exasperation, I stab at him with the leftover stick.

“Does this not strike you as problematic?” he asks a moment later, his cheek still full of cake.

“Yes.” I reply with a stoic nod. “The fact that you just ate a pregnant lady’s cake pop is both striking andproblematic.”

“I mean this repartee you and I enjoy.” He wipes at a bit of icing at the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “A child ought to know his father loves his mother and vice versa, should he not? I would think that sort of thing helps.”

I feel the heartbreak behind his words as if it were my own. In his mind, he’s now on an endless search for every moment in his childhood that went wrong, every little action he ought to do the opposite of. I know. My mind’s been doing it, too.

I scoot a little closer, nearing his warmth, so that I can lean against him. He rests his head on top of mine.

“But you’re my nemesis,” I say, softly.

“Jude,” he says it like he’s scolding. “Not in front of the children.”

“Do not say ‘children’.” I jab him again as he presses his lips to the top of my head. “Your wishes are too powerful, and there is room in here for only one.”

Cardan’s slipped an arm around me, and I tilt my head back to look at him. The corner of his mouth is tugging upwards, slyly.

“Tell me I’m too powerful again,” he murmurs as he kisses my cheek.

“Later,” I promise, and I reach for another cake pop.

There will be time for all that later.

It’s a lie I get used to telling.

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